


Too Far

by AwesomeMango7



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Morty, Angst, Fluff, I don’t know if there will be smut in this??, Incest, M/M, Maybe Smut (not sure), Other Ricks - Freeform, Rick is an Asshole, Rick is sorry but he doesn’t know how to say sorry, im bad at writing smut, morty is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-04-17 14:09:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeMango7/pseuds/AwesomeMango7
Summary: Rick and Morty get into a fight, and Rick says something he doesn't mean. Morty is hurt, and Rick doesn't know how to say he's sorry. (Rick x Morty!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heeyyyy, first fanfic on here! I’m real excited. (Btw, I already posted this on FanFiction.Net if it seems at all familiar)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

__"RICK! I-I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU!" Morty yelled. Once again, his insane grandfather had almost gotten them both killed on an adventure. An adventure Morty hadn't even wanted to go on, and had, for once, correctly predicted what was going to happen before it happened.

Rick wanted to steal some kind of crystal powder, which was located in the middle of a bank, surrounded by alien guards that looked like a freaky mix between spiders and humans (it gives a whole new perspective to "Spider-man"). It was apparently the life source of the whole civilization that lived on that planet. The security was higher than both Rick and Morty had ever seen before, and Rick had been getting a little cocky as of recently.

Morty didn't know how a pile of dust could keep a whole civilization alive, but he knew for a fact that him and Rick wouldn't be able to steal it. There were just too many guards and too many booby-traps. Rick was biting off more than the two of them could chew, yet he seemed completely oblivious to it.

Morty even voiced his thoughts to his cocky grandfather, and continued making points against it the whole time up until the actual plan was in action, but he still didn't change his mind or even listen to him.

As Morty had predicted from the beginning, they got caught, and now they were both locked up in some dungeon under ground. They were told that they were lucky the guards hadn't killed them on sight, and that their trial would be held soon.

"AND Y-YOU CAN'T BLAME THIS ONE ON ME, RICK! I-I-I TOLD YOU IT WASN'T GONNA WORK!" Morty continued yelling. His grandfather was looking down at him with an angered expression. What right did Rick have to be mad at Morty?! "YOU NEVER F-FUCKING LISTEN TO ME, RICK! I-IM NOT ALWAYS WRONG, GODDAMNIT!"

Morty clenched his fists so tightly that his finger nails were drawing blood on his palms, and his knuckles were turning white. He had never been so angry at Rick before in his life. Not when he made him shove seeds up his ass; not when he Cronenberged their original dimension; not even when he ruined his parent's marriage.

This was the one time he was fucking right about something, and Rick still had too much pride in himself to admit it. He'd even had the gall to say it was all Morty's fault as they were mercilessly being dragged off to the dungeons.

He was shaking, and he wanted to punch something—anything! He was so angry that he couldn't even think straight, and he felt like he was gonna pop a blood vessel. FUCKING HELL.

Somewhere deep within him, he knew he was going off the deep end. He knew he was going to far, and most definitely overreacting. But his rage had been building since they started planning, and Morty kept telling him it wasn't going to work. Each time Rick dismissed him it added another drop to his bottled up frustration, and when Rick decided to blame Morty instead of himself for his major fuck-up, the bottle tipped over and now he couldn't stop the words that were flowing out of his mouth like a waterfall. The dam was fucking broken.

"W-WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ADMIT THAT I WAS RIGHT FOR ONCE, HUH?!" Morty takes a step forward, trying to seem intimidating. He was failing, because it was pretty much impossible for Rick to be intimidated by him, but he was so angry that he couldn't care less. "YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING LISTENED TO ME—"

"MAYBE I DIDN'T FUCKING LISTEN TO YOU, BECAUSE YOU'RE A SACK OF SHIT, MORTY!" Rick bellowed back at him. After remaining silent for so long, he finally snapped. His eyes went from angry to full-on livid. Rick could only restrain himself for so long before he got fed up with being yelled at. It was his turn to take a step forward, looming over Morty like a giant, blood-thirsty monster, and casting a menacing shadow over him.

The teen was so shocked at Rick's sudden outburst that the anger he felt melted instantly and morphed into fear. He felt like he was suddenly shrinking under Rick's fiery stare. Rick had never yelled at him like this before, and his eyes widened with fear as he watched the older man loom over him. "EVER THINK ABOUT THAT, HUH, MORTY?! YOU'RE AS DUMB AS BRICKS, AND I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU! YOUR ONLY PURPOSE IS TO COVER MY FUCKING BRAIN WAVES, AND THAT'S IT! I'VE NEVER GIVEN A SHIT ABOUT YOU, SO WHY WOULD I EVER WANT TO LISTEN TO YOUR STUPID, WHINEY, PREPUBESCENT VOICE?!"

Rick's stutter somehow seemed to vanish in his fit of rage, and with every menacing step he took forward, Morty took one fearful step back. "FUCK YOU, MORTY!" He poked him in the chest with his index finger roughly, making him stumble back a bit. "YOU'RE A PIECE OF USELESS SHIT! I COULD REPLACE YOU IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE!"

Morty forced on a brave face, puffing out his chest a little, trying to cover up the fact that Rick's words cut deeply into his heart and soul. The teen had always tried to cling to any shred of evidence that Rick might care about him, if only a little. If he didn't cling to those little moments when Rick would wake him up in the middle of the night just to watch a marathon of Ballfondlers, or the adventures they went on for the soul purpose of going to get ice cream, then he'd go insane. He needed all of those small moments that made it seem like Rick might care like he needed air.

Morty had no one in this world to care about him. Not Beth, not Summer, not Jerry. No one. However, Rick was a constant, steady figure in his life, and every day he found himself getting more and more attached. Each day, the hellish adventures, and the near death experiences seemed more and more worth it as long as he got to be by Rick's side. He started to even enjoy the adventures. The adrenaline coursing through his veins when they ran away from aliens, the pride inside his chest whenever they got away with something amazing, and the thrill of surviving close calls— it was the best feeling in the universe.

As much as Morty hated to admit it, Rick was his best friend in the whole multi-verse. Not only that, but Morty felt as if he might have... developed... deeper feelings. Feelings that he was most definitely ashamed of, and would only allow himself to think about in the dead of night. But besides that, he knew very well that Rick probably didn't think of him as a friend, or even as family, but he still just wanted to pretend Rick did. But now that Rick had just told him exactly what he though of him, he wasn't sure he could take it.

His favorite person, the only person who actually makes him feel like himself, just elaborated on how much he could care less about him. He told him how replaceable he was to him. His words burned a hole deep inside of his chest, and left him struggling to breathe.

Rick had said all of those things to him before in the past countless times. But he had never said them in such an angry and serious way. All those other times he had said stuff like this never seemed to sink in, because it was durning moments that Rick just seemed a little bit annoyed with him. And usually he said it with a hint of carelessness in his voice, making it seem as if what he was saying wasn't true to what he actually felt.

But now? His voice had vile poison and hatred laced inside of it. Spittle flying from his mouth, and scorching fire in his eyes. It seemed that this time Rick really meant what he said. Every word.

And never had Rick ever threatened to replace him. That's what stung more than anything. It was already something he battled with— the very thought that Rick could actually replace him in the blink of an eye. He really really could if he wanted to. And there was always a constant fear in the back of his mind that Rick might one day find out about his deeper feelings for him, and when or if he did... there was no doubt in his mind that Rick would replace him.

He was disgusting for having such feelings about his grandpa, of all people. And Morty wouldn't blame him if he replaced him for that very reason despite how much he feared it.

Morty didn't know if he could take it this time, and he could feel his resolve crumbling underneath his feet despite how desperately he was trying to look indifferent to it all.

Rick was waiting for the next onslot of rage-induced words that were sure to come barreling out of Morty's mouth. He waited with fire glazing over his eyes, pretty much daring the younger to continue.

But the words never came.

Instead, he watched as Morty seemed to brake apart in a way that he'd never seen before. It was... fascinating to watch, but it also caused a heavy weight to drop in his stomach.

However still trying to keep a straight face, still trying to look like he wasn't at all affected by what Rick had said, the teen couldn't stop the flow of tears that fell from his eyes and down his cheeks. He couldn't keep it together this time. Fuck, he tried, but he just couldn't.

Rick's expression instantly changed from angry to a mixture between regret, shock, and worry, and he found himself reflexively reaching out for the teen.

"M-Morty, I-I..."

Morty flinched away from him before shoving Rick back. He sniffled, trying to hold back a sob that threatened to force its way out of his lungs.

Rick stumbled a bit, his mouth moving, but no words would come out. Morty couldn't look at him, and instead stared at a fixed spot on the wall behind Rick. His fists were no longer clenched, and hung loosely at his sides. Rick could see his hands trembling.

Stiffly, Morty turned away from him, his hands reaching up to wipe his eyes as he unwillingly let a soft sob slip past his lips. He felt so humiliated, now. He couldn't believe he was crying over this.

In fact, Morty couldn't remember a time in his life where he had actually ever cried in front of Rick before. It was something that he told himself he would never do, because he knew Rick would make fun of him for doing it. Crying was something Rick thought was stupid and pointless because it got you nowhere. And now that he'd broken that promise to himself, to never let Rick see him like this, he felt completely and entirely humiliated and embarrassed and so, so alone. He really was alone if Rick didn't care about him.

If Rick didn't care, then that meant no one did.

Desperate to get away from Rick in this very moment, he clumsily stumbled over to the corner of the room. It was the furthest from Rick he could get in this stupid fucking room, and he sunk to the floor, sitting with crossed legs so he could use them as arm rests for his elbows. His shoulders hitched with each quiet sob that forced its way out, and he covered his face with his hands as shame swept over him. He hated that Rick was seeing this. He hated that he was so weak and useless right now, proving that the old man was right. He just wanted to hide and be out of his sight. The last thing he wanted was for Rick to continue looking at him as he pretty much had a mental breakdown.

Rick hesitated before moving to stand in front of Morty. He didn't mean any of those things he said. He was just so... angry. He only said all of that stuff because his ego was bruised. But he took it too far, he knows now. He had called Morty stupid on more than one occasion, and rightfully so, but he had never said it to him with such hatred and anger in his voice. Fuck, Rick remembers being yelled at as a kid. It's terrifying when someone bigger and older than you yells, especially if it's someone you look up to so much. It's just a fact of life, and he not only hurt Morty, but he probably scared the shit out of him too.

The kid didn't even do anything wrong... he was right, after all. Rick had been wrong, and Morty had been right.

'What the hell is wrong with me?' Rick thought. He felt like his stomach was twisting into knots. He let what he said to Morty replay in his mind a few times, regret and self-hatred filling up inside of him. Did those words really just come out of his mouth? He hadn't meant to make Morty cry... god, had he ever even see the kid cry before? 'No, idiot, you haven't. You really fucked up this time, Sanchez. You're the piece of shit, not Morty.'

He stood as still as a statue for a moment before he snapped out of it, forcing his brain to work along with his mouth. "L-Look, Morty, I-"

"Don't."

"Morty..."

"Rick. Please."

Morty still wouldn't look at him.

"Morty, l-look at me."

Morty shakes his head, still refusing to look at his grandfather. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears. He didn't want to look, let alone talk to Rick. He was too humiliated for that. It was just all too much. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

Rick felt his mouth go dry. What was this? Was he nervous? When the fuck was he ever nervous? "I-I... I-I'm..." Rick was struggling to get his words out. He wanted to apologize, but it had been so long since he had actually apologized to anyone before. He felt almost like he was malfunctioning.

There was a pause where no one spoke.

"What, Rick..?" Morty's voice was surprisingly toneless. If Rick couldn't see the look on his face, he would have thought he didn't have emotions. But that... look on his face. That broken, betrayed, defeated look on his face spoke so much more than someone's tone of voice ever could. "What m-more could you possibly have to say to m-me?"

Once again, Rick found his mouth wordlessly moving. He'd never seen Morty like this before; he didn't even think it was possible for him to be like this. The teen was always so optimistic, cheerful, and giggly. He'd seen him go from nearly dying, to laughing at some stupid pun about cats within the very same hour.

Rick didn't know what to fucking say. He was speechless. He'd really fucked up this time. He really... really... screwed this up.

He mindlessly reached for his flask, only to remember that he didn't even have his lab coat right now. The fucking natives confiscated it, and now he was alcohol-less, and he didn't like it. He really needed a drink right now. All this emotional stuff was stressing him out because it had been so long since he'd actually cared about someone.

Morty was the one and only person he actually genuinely cared about. He couldn't bring himself to really care about Beth, his very own daughter, despite trying to at least. He did somewhat care for her. He didn't really want to see her hurt, but he wouldn't do much, if anything at all, if she did get hurt. It was the same for Summer. (He could give a rats ass about Jerry.)

At some point in his life, he'd been in love with a woman named Diane, Morty's grandmother, but that was so long ago that Rick hardly even remembers what that felt like. He'd cared for Unity, but only because he needed her like some kind of security blanket. Their relationship had been toxic, and it wasn't good for either of them. It wasn't ever really love though, was it? It was sex, drugs, and an unhealthy escape.

But Morty? For some reason he found himself fixated on the damn kid. And it wasn't just a... familial thing. It was something more than that. And he hated himself for it. He cared about Morty, and he loved him. He loved him more than he really should— more than any grandpa should ever love their grandkid.

And he was such an abusive, violent, vulgar piece of shit, and he hated that Morty looked up to him so much. He couldn't bring himself to just... leave, though. He knew that the disgusting thoughts that roamed behind everything else should have been the first sign to leave. He should have left when he realize he was such a piece of shit, and was probably ruining Morty's life. But he knew that he was pretty much all Morty had, and even if Morty did have other people, he was too selfish to leave anyway.

He needed Morty. Not just for the brainwaves; that was only a small benefit. He needed Morty for so much more than that. The kid kept his head in straight, and pulled the breaks for him when things started to go haywire. Morty kept him sane like no one else could.

But today, he'd completely disregarded him. Morty had every right in the world to snap at him. Lately, Rick had been kind of being a dick to him. He felt that they were starting to get too close for comfort. He found himself enjoying Morty's presence more and more each day, and he started to count down the minutes until he'd get home from school each day so they could hang out. Their friendship was growing, and they became so close. Things had started to become extremely enjoyable between them, and when Rick realized that... it's almost like he couldn't function anymore because of the guilt that pilled up on top of him.

Getting close to Morty was dangerous territory, because... what if he let something slip? What if he was really drunk one day and hanging with Morty, and decided to act upon his feelings? Something like that would completely scare the boy away. He'd lose him, and Rick wouldn't be able to cope with that.

But now he was just hurting him. He was hurting Morty, and hurting Morty like that... it was a fucking terrible thing for him to do, and Rick was starting to really regret it. It was unfair to Morty. He really fucked up, and took it too far. He let himself get frustrated in his efforts to push Morty away.

Rick took a breath, turning to look at the single cot that was place in another corner of the room. Sullenly, and regretfully, Rick finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Morty."

There was another a tense silence that filled the room.

Morty looked up at his grandfather through his tears, taking in his hunched over form. He almost looked... sad? Regretful? There was a far-off look in his eyes, and he wouldn't meet Morty's gaze. It seemed the roles of who could and couldn't look at the other had been reversed. And then he noticed that Rick's hands were trembling slightly, and his breathing seemed to be quick.

Confusion slammed through him. Did Rick really just apologize to him? It had to be an act. It had to be. There's no way in hell Rick would ever apologize to anyone. At least, he would never mean it. Rick probably didn't mean it... he could be quite the actor when he wanted. "...D-don't lie, Rick..."

Morty's words were almost inaudible, but Rick had heard them. He felt his heart shatter inside of him, and a dizziness almost had him swaying where he stood. Morty didn't believe him, but Rick couldn't blame him.

He felt his heart start to twist inside of him, and he dragged his feet until he reached the cot. Slowly, he sat down on it.

He really fucked this up.

... He wouldn't have believed himself either if the roles had been reversed.


	2. I’m sorry for hurting you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gets drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! New chapter. Here you guys go. Hope you enjoy!

  
It had been two weeks. Two whole fucking weeks that were practically driving Rick insane.

They had escaped from Industrioys 9, the planet with the crystal powder. It had taken a lot more effort than most of their grand escapes usually do, but they still managed it. They had both acted more like business partners after Rick had snapped. There were none of the usual jokes, and none of the high-fiving, or the petty little arguments they normally had. They didn’t even speak to each other unless they needed to.

Morty had been quiet and reserved, but also serious and focused. It was comically funny how fluidly the adventure seemed to go after that, however neither of them found it humorous in any way.

It’s always more bearable to go through an adventure with someone you could joke around with. But the rest of the adventure had been hell at the same time that they were great at it. With how mentally distant the two were from each other, it caused an underlying tension to form. Rick could constantly feel guilt looming over his shoulder throughout the whole thing, and it made it hard for him to think. Knowing that he’d hurt Morty so badly really fucked him up.

He didn’t know how to fix it, and he couldn’t think about it because he was too busy thinking about how to fix their more impending situation.

The worst part about it was how unfazed Morty was when it came to certain things. He accidentally killed a few innocent aliens, and when usually Morty would scold him, he didn’t this time. He just looked shamefully away.

The teen had also been more reckless with the way he did things, almost like he didn’t care if he got hurt or fucking _died_. Rick had to save him a few times, and while his mind was in a fit of panic and rage, he kept on his poker-face because he didn’t know how to react to how reaction-less Morty was.

After what had to be at least 24 hours of non-stop fighting against the spider-like aliens, they finally escaped. (Unfortunately without the powder.)

The ride home was tensely silent in the spaceship, and when they pulled into the garage, Morty had simply slipped out and muttered a quiet, “G’night, Rick.” Before disappearing into the house.

But it had been two _weeks_ since then. And Rick was really getting frustrated at this point. He missed having Morty around, and every time he saw him he felt horrible.

He just didn’t know what do fucking do. This wasn’t on his level of expertise. He’d already apologize... but Morty didn’t believe he was being honest. He had no clue how to convey that message to him. He had trouble admitting cared, but he really took it too far this time, and unless he could somehow prove he really was sorry, he feared he’d lose him.

He initially decided to give Morty space, and perhaps he’d come back in a day or two, and then Rick could try to make it up to him by taking him somewhere fun. But Morty didn’t come back, and Rick’s wait slowly stretched into an agonizing week of loneliness. He couldn’t bring himself to approach Morty, either. He felt like he didn’t have the right, and that somehow it would push Morty even further away.

They kept up appearances at the dinner table so the rest of the family wouldn’t get suspicious of them, but other than that, they just didn’t interact. There was the occasional passing of the other in the hallway, but that was about it. It was literally the only time he got to see Morty at all. Whenever they entered the same room, one of them quickly left in order to relieve the weird pressure that it formed, and it made Rick feel sick. He was avoiding the one person in the world that he liked.

He spent most of his time in the garage, mindlessly tinkering with new inventions. He made maybe two good ones, but other than that he lacked inspiration and motivation for them. Ideas ceased to enter his mind because he found himself thinking about Morty instead, worrying if they’d ever fix things. After the first week passed, Rick still hoped Morty could come to him.

On week two, Rick started to lose hope, and in a spur of the moment decision, he fumbled inside of his secret mini fridge in the garage, and pulled out several bottles of the strongest alcoholic drinks he had. He drank and he drank until he threw up, and then he drank some more. He drank until his hands were so unsteady that he couldn’t work on his never-to-be-finished-anyway-inventions. He drank until his mind was pretty much numb, and his body swayed like there was an earthquake under his feet. He drank nearly to the point of passing out, but as his thoughts swam and skipped around inside his head, he started to stray, stumbling clumsily up the stairs. He tripped at least three times, but he didn’t really care all that much.

And then he was doing exactly what sober him didn’t want to do— he was opening Morty’s door and stepping (not without nearly tripping over his own feet) inside.

Morty heard the squeak of his door opening, and at first he thought it was a dream. Rick hadn’t come barging in since their fight, and he doubted he would be barging in anytime soon. But then he heard a few things fall off his bookshelf, a small bang as if someone had stubbed their toe, and then an inaudible slur of curses.

He opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows, squinting until he was able to catch sight of Rick’s swaying outline in the darkness. His still half-asleep mind was swirling with confusion. He didn’t know why Rick was in here. They were still avoiding each other, right? Because he knew Rick didn’t care... “R-Rick? What are you—?”

Before he knew what was happening, Rick had face planted into his bed by his feet and Morty let out a soft squeak of surprise. “R-Rick!” He stammered. What the hell did he even want? “G-get out of m-my-my-my room!” He was starting to get anxious right around now, still feeling hurt from their last adventure. Morty knew he was going to start crying again if Rick said anything more, especially if it was anything remotely like what he’d said before. It all still felt so fresh, despite it being two weeks ago.

Rick stayed still for a moment before he hoisted himself up on shaky arms and uncoordinatedly crawled further onto the bed. “M-uuUURRP-orty.” He slurred. “Mor-Mor-Morty—you—I—man, I cu—can’t—can’t handle— it’s been t-t-too long, M-Mort.” The old man collapsed again, closer to Morty’s hips before he pushed himself up once again and pulled himself up next to Morty on the bed. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled the teen into his chest, curling into him. It kind of reminded Morty if a cat cuddling up to you for warmth.

“W-what the—“ Morty mostly remained still, trying to process what the hell was going on. He pushed at Rick’s chest half-heartedly, not really knowing if he actually wanted Rick to get off. Sure, he stunk heavily of alcohol, but it was a smell Morty had gotten used to over time. And the teen felt... deprived of Rick’s presence despite feeling hurt and entirely unwanted by the man. He missed him so much and it was proving to be very hard to push him away now that he was here. “R-Rick, you’re really drunk, I-I-I think you should go to bed.” His voice was shaking now. He didn’t want Rick to leave but he feared his heart might break again if he stayed.

Rick shook his head in refusal, pulling Morty even closer, pretty much making the teen lay halfway onto his chest. Morty just let it happen at this point. He really hadn’t expected this at all. If Rick didn’t care about him, why was he here? Why was he holding onto Morty like his life depended on it? He believed it was over between them, and it had completely crushed him. The way Rick was acting now, however, caused his heart to flutter with hope, and he was struggling to squash it. He wanted to squash it because he wasn’t sure if Rick was just being drunk, or if he was here because he actually missed Morty.

“M’so sor—m’sorry, Mort.” Rick murmured softly to him. “I was—m’afr—afrade, y-y’kn—uUUurp-know? Afraid y-y-y-you’d f-find out, y-you fin’out’bout it.” And then Rick started to shake, breath hitching unevenly.

Morty cocked his head to look up at Rick, feeling confused. And then he felt something wet fall on his shoulder. He’d scrunched up his nose, thinking it was drool, but in the moonlight that was casting down out of his window, he caught sight of the shimmering tears that were flowing down the old man’s cheeks. “Oh-oh-Geez, R-Rick.” He began stammering anxiously. He hadn’t even known it was possible for Rick to cry. “A-are you okay? Find out a-about what, Rick?” He meekly reached forward and gently placed a hand on Rick’s shoulder. Now he was getting worried.

“Dn’t want y-you findin’out—“ Rick drunkenly rambled, burying his face into Morty’s shoulder. “C-couldn’t have y-ou— you—you finding out— finding my t- how I-I f-fffeel.”

“Rick..?” Morty squirmed slightly in his hold until he could look the man in his eyes.

“I-I love y-you so much, M-Mort.”

Morty felt his whole body freeze up. Did he hear that correctly?

“F-Fuckin’ y-bBUUUuUrp-yuh—you’re—I lov-love you so much. It—breaks—bre-breaks m-m-my heart t-t-that—I did—that I hurt y-y-y-you so much.” Rick continued to slur, and Morty knew in that moment that he wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. Rick was so fucked up right now that he was actually confessing something to Morty that he’d never planned on telling him. Rick probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Morty was staring at him with his mouth hanging open slightly in a mixture of awe and shock.

_Rick loved him..?_

He felt his chest swell with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a while, and tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. “Rick, I—“

He was cut off when suddenly Rick’s lips smashed into his. He let out another startled squeak, feeling his cheeks burn like fire. _Rick was kissing him! Holy shit! What?!_ It was sloppy, and uncoordinated, and Morty could taste a potent amount of alcohol. But he quickly found himself returning the kiss with fever, his hands grasping the labels of Rick’s lab coat to pull him impossibly closer, while Rick’s hands roamed up and tangled themselves in the teens hair.

He’d thought Rick meant platonically. Like, he loved him as family, or as his best friend. But he never expected that _this_ was what he meant. The teen felt his heart pounding in his chest and he thought he might faint. He could hardly believe that Rick felt the same way he did, and he was crying. He was crying tears of joy and sorrow and love. His emotions spiraled into some kind of clusterfuck that he couldn’t decipher. Was he supposed to be scared or happy that this was even happening? He didn’t even know what he was feeling right now, and he couldn’t tell if it was a good feeling or a bad feeling.

All too soon, Rick was pulling him away, and Morty let out a gasp. Rick layed his head back down onto Morty’s shoulder. “M’sorry, m’sorry, so so s-sorry, M-Mort. D-dn’t mean a-an-any-any o’ shit I said. Love y-you so-so-so much, Morty, so much. Sssssoo much. More than any-any—th—anything.”

Morty was about to say something, but he was once again cut off. This time, by a snore. Rick had passed out.

Whimpering slightly, Morty buried his face into Rick’s chest, wiping away his tears. His heart was still pounding inside of his chest.

His mind was racing with so many thoughts about Rick, and he was trying to pick out moments in his head. He was trying to remember any moments that he might have he looked over that hinted to Rick feeling that way about him.

But before he could really get into it though, he was already drifting into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think in the comments! XD I would love to hear everyone’s thoughts.


	3. Please Don’t Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions, angst, and kissing. That’s all you need to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delaying this for so long. I’ve gotten a little busy with finals and school, and blah blah blah. You know? That kind of craziness. Hope you enjoy!

A headache. That’s what initially woke Rick up, but his eyes remained closed. He did  _not_ want to wake up right now. He was definitely hungover.

Where even was he right now? It sure wasn’t his cot or the garage floor. Wherever he was right now was far too comfortable to be either of those places.

Rick groaned, and tried to raise his hand to nurse his pounding forehead. However, there was an odd weight that prevented him from lifting his arm. That’s when He decided it was probably a good idea to open his eyes. 

A vaguely familiar celling is what met him, and he squinted, waiting for his vision to stop spinning along with the calling fan. 

Sluggishly he glanced further around the room. Huh... it kinda... looks like...

He looked down at the weight that was keeping his arm down.

“Oh fuck—“ Rick panicked. He yanked his arm out from under the sleeping teen beside him and backed up against the headboard of the bed. Holy shit, why was he in Morty’s room, and why was he sleeping on his bed?

The jerky movements caused Morty to wake up, his head lifting up as he blearily looked at Rick. “Hu-wha..?” His eyes were glossed over from sleep and there was a little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth. The mop of curly brown hair on his head was messy with parts of it sticking out at random angles. Light from outside slipped passed the blinds of the window, the warm orange light giving off the illusion that the kid was glowing, and Rick couldn’t help but think the sight was endearing. Morty’s tired green eyes locked with Rick’s confused blue ones. “Oh, Rick, y-y-you’re awake.” He stated the obvious, voice still groggy with sleep.

“Oh, I-I-I couldn’t tell.” Rick snarked back sarcastically, trying not to think about how...  _good_  Morty looked. He shouldn’t be thinking that way. He was disgusting. His voice was more gravely than normal, and his head throbbed painfully. The scientist hissed in pain and rubbed his right temple with the heel of his hand.

“S-shit, I-I’ll be right back.” Morty stammered quietly, and started to slip out of the bed. “ _Stay_ here.” He gave him a pointed look to make sure the point would get across. _Don’t leave._

“What-? Morty, wait!” Rick protested, but the teen was already walking out the door, his yellow shirt disappearing around the door frame. He felt an uncomfortable chill as he was left alone in the bed. “Fuuuuck.” He groaned. What the hell was happening? Why the fuck was he in Morty’s room? He didn’t remember jack shit from the night before, besides working aimlessly on a piece of scrap metal that he wouldn’t even call a project.

Well, at least he was wearing all of his clothes, shoes and everything. So nothing tremendously bad happened... probably.

Morty had only been gone long enough for Rick to process two things: He was in Morty’s room, and he didn’t remember anything from last night. The teen entered, carrying a glass of water and some painkillers. He kicked the door closed with his foot and walked to the edge of his bed where Rick was still sitting halfway under the covers with an expression that could either be confused or annoyed. He couldn’t tell which. Maybe it was both? “H-here, Rick.” He said, holding out the glass of water and painkillers.

Rick looked at what his grandson was holding with a suspicious glint in his eyes before taking it and downing the pills in one swig. He sipped at the water slowly after that, his mind going a million miles a minute. “Uh, what, uh, what happen—happened last night, Morty?” He asked cautiously. He reached over the bed and placed the half-empty cup of water on the side table. Right now, he seriously felt like a piece of shit. He was probably the last person in the world Morty wanted to talk to... and this was the first time he’d even had a conversation with him since... their fight.

A light blush dusted the teens face and he awkwardly glanced away. “W-what do you remember?” He asked, sounding shy.

“Not... much...” The scientist admitted, looking at Morty with a quirked brow. He must have done something last night to make Morty act all shy like this. God, he was such an idiot. He shouldn’t have let himself get so wasted last night. He was making Morty uncomfortable... fuck, _fuck!_ What was wrong with him? He couldn’t even give the boy space...

Morty’s blush deepened, and Rick couldn’t help but be even more confused. Why the hell was the kid blushing? What the hell had he done to him last night? Rick wanted to go down to the garage and bang his head into the wall until he knocked himself out. “I k-kinda expected that answer, Rick, but well... _shit_.” Morty shakily sat down on the edge of the bed. “You—I—we...”

“Well, s-spit it out, Morty.” Rick urged, hating how quickly his heart was beating. He wasn’t in the mood to sit around and wait for Morty to trip over his words. He wanted to know what the hell had happened, because obviously something had, if Morty was acting like this. God, w _hat had he done? He needed to know!_

“Ugh, R-Rick, geez, I-It’s just really hard to tell you this, a-alright?” Morty rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, a nervous grin on his face. It was the way he grinned whenever he was hesitant about something. Rick had seen him grin like that plenty of times before. “Y-you kinda... well, you told me something. And you—you... uh...” he trailed off, looking down at the floor as if we were studying the patterns on his space-themed carpet. 

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. He was trying to look annoyed so he could cover up how fucking nervous he felt right now. “T-that literally tells me nothing, Morty.” He said. “What did I say?”

 Silence.

 

“Morty.” 

 

More silence.

 

“ _Morty!_ ”

 

Morty flinched the second time Rick called his name— like he’d been snapped out of a trance. “Y-you-you said you loved me, o-okay?! And that you were sorry for what you s-said...” He glanced at him, obvious frustration on his face. “And then you—and then...”

Rick stared, his mouth hanging open slightly. This time, he waited patiently for Morty to continue. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now. Rick always gets emotional and stupid when he’s drunk, and he didn’t like where this was going. Now he was worried about how indepth he went with how he felt about Morty.

After a few moments of tense silence, Morty spoke. “Andthenyoukissedme.” He said it quickly, so it sounded like a mumble, but Rick was still able to hear it loud and clear. Those were the exact words that he did _not_ want to hear. Morty shuffled his legs uncomfortably, not meeting Rick’s stare, which was boring into the side of his head.

Rick felt like the wind was knocked out of him, and he couldn’t breathe. He fucked up. Again. He knew he couldn’t trust himself. He _kissed_ his fucking grandson. 

How fucked up _is_ that? 

He scrambled out of the corner of the bed, standing up so quickly that he nearly had to sit back down just to regain his balance. As if he had a rod for a spine, he stood as straight as a pole. “I-I have to go.” He said. Autopilot was kicking in, and he locked any and all of his emotions inside of a figurative box, and set it far back inside his mind. He had to leave. 

He started walking towards the door, but before he could make it very far, Morty yanked him back by the shoulder, forcing him to turn back around. “No!” The teen locked eyes with him and held his gaze, something he hadn’t done since Rick had snapped at him two weeks ago. “No, R-Rick, you don’t get to run away from this!” Rick tried to pull way, but Morty’s grasp held firm.

“M-Morty, let me go.” He said sternly. He was already making a plan inside of his head. He’d go to Birdperson’s old house, yeah. He’d go there, and he’d use his Portal gun to transfer everything in the garage. He’d be out of Morty’s life, and everything would be better. Like this, he wouldn’t be able to hurt him. He wouldn’t be able to hurt the one person he loved.

Morty stared at him. There were so many emotions running through Morty’s eyes that Rick couldn’t distinguish any of them as he stared back. It’s almost like the boy was uncertain about something.

And then, without any sort of warning, Morty grabbed him by both of his shoulders, pushed himself up on his tippy-toes... and _kissed_ him. 

Rick tried to remain unresponsive, but with Morty literally fucking _kissing_ him, his self-control was quickly crumbling. The box that contained his emotions cracked open, and he couldn’t pull way— he had denied himself this for so long, always keeping himself in check and making sure he didn’t do anything inappropriate. But now he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t turn around and leave now that this had already started.

Morty was just about to pull way, thinking he’d made a mistake when Rick had suddenly gone from being unresponsive to the kiss, to taking control of it. He spun Morty around and pressed him against the bedroom door, pinning him against it. The kiss was more passionate than it had been last night when Rick had been drunk, but it was also very tender and sweet— something the teen had never expected. He imagined Rick would kiss with aggression, but that wasn’t the case at all. And he couldn’t help but love the unexpected turn, relishing in the fact that he was able to see this side of Rick.

Morty could still taste the alcohol, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except for the feeling of Rick’s lips moving against his own, and the feeling of Rick’s heart beating inside his chest. This was so much better than it had been last night. It was better, because Rick was sober, and it was conscious decision that both of them were making. Or, at least that’s what he thinks. Rick was kissing him back, so he wasn’t complaining.

Slowly, Rick trailed the kiss down the corner of his mouth and to his neck, hands sliding up under his shirt. Morty’s body felt like it was on fire, and Rick’s cool fingers sent a shiver up his spine. “Ah, R-Rick...” Morty grunted, his hands held loosely around Rick’s neck. He had only ever dreamed that Rick would touch him this way, and now that it was happening, he didn’t know if he could handle it. He felt amazing and scared and so _so_ relived that Rick didn’t hate him.

At the sound of Morty’s voice Rick froze. Not that he didn’t fucking love they way Morty sounded just then, but he just... sounded so _young_. It send a reminder through his head like a flash of lightning that Morty was his _fifteen year old grandson._ And this was so wrong. And Rick was such a sick perverted fuck who was corrupting his own  _grandson_.

He pushed himself off of Morty, taking several steps back to separate them. 

The teens face was flushed, and his eyes were wide with... not fear, or hatred... but something Rick just couldn’t place. Usually he was so good at reading the kid, but this was a whole new set of things and emotions. 

“R-Rick..?” Morty took a timid step forward. “A-are you okay..?” 

Rick couldn’t hear him. He was too lost in his own head, all his thoughts, fears, and anxieties ricocheting around inside his skull. The scientist was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Morty was walking up to him until he grabbed the sleeve of his lab coat, tugging on it gently to get his attention. 

It was as far as he was gonna go with physical contact, because he didn’t want Rick to react like that again. He felt his heart clench inside his chest. He could tell that while Rick enjoyed this, he just couldn’t do it... and he understood despite how much he wanted to throw caution to the wind and just... be happy. “I’m—I’m sorry, Rick.” He said, eyes downcast. “We— _I_ shouldn’t have done that. T-that was unfair of me...” he looked up, his eyes sad and distant. “J-just please, Rick, promise me you won’t leave because of this. We-we-we can pretend it never even happened, o-okay? We can go back to normal, jus-just ‘Rick and M-Morty and their adventures, a hundred years.’” 

Rick stared at him, pulling his hand away like Morty’s touch had burned him. “I-I can’t do this to you, M-Morty...” he looked away. His heart was still beating a mile a minute, and part of him want to say ‘fuck it.’ But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. If it had been anyone else in the world, Rick would have already taken them. But he would destroy Morty if he did that to him. He couldn’t take away his innocence like that— it would ruin him forever. _He would ruin him._

“R-Rick, I’ve...” Morty felt tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I’ve w-wanted this for a long time.” He said. “And I kn-know how fucked up and wrong it is, believe me. But _please_... don’t _leave._ Promise me you won’t leave b-because of this. Because of _me._ W-we can pretend it never even happened.” He knew he was repeating what he said a few seconds ago, but the last thing he wanted was for Rick to leave because of _him._

“H-hey, no, no, no, Morty, this isn’t your fault, okay?” Rick wanted to reach out and hold Morty, and wipe away the tears pooling in his eyes. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that. He’d ruin him. He’d destroy him. “I-I... if anything, t-this is might fault, o-okay?”

“Who cares w-who’s fault it is!” The first few tears fell down his cheeks, and Rick was taken back to when he’d yelled at him. How could Morty even stand him anymore after something like that? _How could he stand him now that he knew the true extent of his feelings? “_ Just promise me, Rick!” He begged. “Promise you won’t leave! I-I don’t know I-if I’d be able to handle it... if you left...”

Rick took a step back, feeling something wet fall down his cheek. It took him a moment to realize that he was crying too. “M-Morty, I-I don’t know if I can...” he clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to compose himself. He needed to leave. He needed to leave _now_ but his feet were somehow planted to the ground and he couldn’t bring himself to just _go._ It was almost like roots where growing out of the bottom of his feet, keeping him stuck to the ground like a tree. 

_Why couldn’t he move?_

“I-I’m sorry, Rick.” Morty cried, backing away. Rick was crying, and this time was worse than the last time. He’d felt kinda bad when Rick had cried last night, but this was a completely different situation. He was sober, and he was crying because _of_ Morty. But last night he’d cried because he was sorry. He was just hurting Rick at this point. He was being selfish for asking him to stay, but he needed him. He needed Rick to stay or he’d be alone. He feared loneliness more than anything in the world.

 “Morty...” Rick’s voice sounded so broken. “T-this is not your fault, but w-we... I’m your _grandfather_... I can’t— I-I—“

 

“I k-know, Rick.”

 

“If I don’t leave, I’ll—“

 

“If you leave, I’ll be a-alone, Rick.” Morty was shaking. “Please, I c-can’t be alone. W-w-we don’t have to... to...” He couldn’t say it, but Rick understood what he was implying. 

“I c-can’t just forget, Morty.” The scientist felt dizzy, watching his grandson cry. _What did they get themselves into?_

“Then w-we don’t have to forget...” Morty shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest in an almost protective way as he backed himself against the door. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Rick’s eyes anymore. He couldn’t stand seeing him look like that, knowing he’d been the one who caused it. “W-we can figure something else out. L-Let’s at _least_ talk about this when w-we’re both not falling apart... l-let me at least try to convince you to stay... _please._ Please, Rick, I need you.”

Morty sounded so desperate and broken that all Rick wanted to do was hold him and whisper sweet nothings to him. He wanted to kiss him, and comfort him, and tell him that everything was fine. But he couldn’t, because they both knew none of this was fine. They both knew Rick wouldn’t be able to hold him without guilt digging it’s dirty claws into his heart, and ripping it to shreds.

But Morty was right about what would happen if Rick left. Morty would be entirely alone. And Rick had to admit that he would be alone, too. They were all each other had, and that’s probably how they’d fallen for each other in the first place. Their co-dependency had them ensnared together, and Rick couldn’t deny that. 

He has a feeling that he might regret this, but... “O-okay...” Rick said, wiping his face with the sleeve of his lab coat. Morty looked up at him through his own tears, wonder and hope in his eyes. “W-we... w-w-we’ll talk,” He said. “About us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! More chapters will come, I promise. Might take a while, though.


	4. Emerald eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to another planet. Rick has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so very sorry for how long this took. I don’t really have an excuse— I’m a lazy peice of shit, and that’s all there is to it. But, to make up for it, I’m already done with this chapter, AND the next one, so I’ll have a second one up in a few days! Anyway, please enjoy!

“So Dad, any adventures planned for today?” Beth asked, setting a plate of pancakes down on the table. Just because Rick and Morty had been keeping up appearances in front of Beth and Summer, it didn’t mean it was easy to cover up the fact that the two of them hadn’t been going on adventures. Beth had asked the same question a few days ago, and it had caused Morty to leave the room when no one was looking. He had sort of just... vanished that day.

Today, however, Rick knew Morty wasn’t going to leave. Sure, things were still uncomfortable... and Rick knew they would be getting even worse soon, but somehow... he felt a little better, for now. Maybe it was because Morty had actually talked to him. Or maybe he was just relieved the kid didn’t _hate_ him. He couldn’t really tell, but he knew he shouldn’t be feeling _better,_ especially with what he was planning... “Uh,” He cleared his throat, feeling even more uncomfortable. Maybe it would be easier to talk... about... _things,_ if they were off-planet. At least then they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard. But he still didn’t know if Morty would be okay with that. “W-what do you say, Morty? Wanna go on an adventure?” He tried to sound enthusiastic, but it was a struggle.

The morning had left him on edge. After Rick agreed that they would talk about their situation, he had retreated to his own room. He spend most of that time laying down on his cot trying to process everything. He made up a plan in his head about what he needed to do, hating himself for even thinking it, but knowing it was the right thing to do.

But, he couldn’t sit around and plan forever, so eventually he managed to drag himself to the bathroom and take a quick shower.

After that, he got dressed, and before he knew it Beth was calling him down for breakfast.

And now here he was, sitting at the dining room table across from Morty, dreading what he was going to have to do to the kid later. The kid had given him a few awkward glances, and once, they had actually made eye contact— the connection between them had sent an electric shock through his system. Partially terrified, Rick had instantly looked away. He felt like he was walking on eggshells. He didn’t want to say anything because he worried it might somehow upset Morty, which he knew was ironic, because he was definitely going to upset him later. Even asking him if he wanted to go on an adventure felt risky right now, and his hands quickly grew sweaty as he waited for Morty’s response.

The teen looked up from his plate, a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. He froze mid-cut of his pancake, surprised Rick was actually asking him something. He stared for a moment before realizing he was supposed to respond. His cheeks turned a shade of red from the sheer embarrassment of having just stared at Rick like an idiot. “Y-yeah, s-s-sure.” He stammered quickly, looking back down at his plate in order to avoid everyone’s stares.

Beth instantly seemed to brighten up. “Oh, great!” She smiled at Rick, placing a hand on his shoulder. Rick felt shame and guilt pile on his back, crushing him under its weight. “You guys haven’t been on any adventures recently. While I do sometimes wish you two would slow down, I’m glad to see that you two are hanging out again. Morty really learns a lot on the adventures.”

Morty quietly chuckled, a sound which Rick hadn’t heard in what felt like ages. “Y-yeah, sure do mom.” He said, sounding kind of genuine, but there was something lying underneath his tone that only Rick seemed to pick up on. Like he was scared. Or maybe the old man was just being paranoid— he couldn’t tell.

“Just, like, make sure you get home later today instead of like a week from now.” Summer said, not looking up from her phone as she spoke. “I don’t want to have to do all your chores again. Last time you and grandpa Rick went on a long adventure, I had to do _all_ of the chores by myself.”

Morty rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Summer.”

“Oh! Yeah, he’ll definitely need to be home by at least 6pm.” Beth said, sitting down in her own spot so she could eat breakfast as well. “Jerry’s coming over for dinner tonight, and he’ll probably just complain the whole time if Morty isn’t here.” She sighed in annoyance.

Rick groaned, although he was grateful for the change of subject. “He’s coming over _again?_ “ He angrily stabbed a piece of his pancake with his fork.

“Dad, I can’t just _not_ let him see the kids.” Beth sighed again.

“Y-you could totally do that, Beth!” Rick countered. “He—he already lost that stupid custody battle. Jerry’s a piece of shit anyway. W-why does he even need to come here?”

“‘Cause, Grampa Rick, he might be an idiot, but he’s still our dad.” Summer said, sounding sort of glum. There was always a constant battle between Rick and Jerry.

Rick groaned again. “W-whatever.” He rolled his eyes. The scientist didn’t particularly feel energetic enough to argue over something so trivial when something much worse was on his mind.

The rest of breakfast consisted of Summer and Beth talking about how school was going. Morty jumped in every so often when Summer would ask him about his social life at school. Summer had asked if he’d made any friends as of recently, and Morty had said no.

That thought had left Rick feeling a little more guilty than he was already feeling. It was probably his fault Morty didn’t have any other friends... he pretty much took up all of his time. He was constantly dragging the kid off to space. No wonder he was fucking confused...

Morty hardly ever spent time with kids his age. And that was _entirely_ Rick’s fault.

Too soon, breakfast was over and everyone was putting their dishes in the sink. Too soon, Morty was following Rick into the garage. Too soon, they were both getting in the ship and exiting the atmosphere.

The ride was quiet, not much unlike how it had been when they were last in the Spaceship together.

Rick knew where he needed to take them. It was a planet a few star-systems away where sentient life had yet to exist. He’d gone there a few times throughout his life when all he wanted was to be alone. It was quiet there, with nothing more than the sound of wind blowing through the leaves of exotic plants, and the crashing of waves near the ocean’s edge. It was a peaceful, secluded place that Rick felt held some part of him. _What better place to spend his last fleeting moments with Morty?_

He’d gone there before in his most fragile states, when everything was falling apart and he had no one to be there for him. He stopped going once he met Morty, though. Even when things were falling apart, he had Morty now...

And soon he might even lose the kid. Scratch that, he was _definitely_ going to lose the kid. He’ll try to listen to Morty, he’ll hope that the kid might offer some kind of alternative that’ll work for the both of them, but... he still believes the best option is to leave. At least... he’ll get to say goodbye here, instead of in Morty’s room, or in the grungy garage.

As they entered the atmosphere of the planet— it was about a third of the size of Earth— Rick saw Morty’s eyes brighten up at the sight. He had pulled into an area of the planet that was at the edge of the ocean. The water was light pink, and the sand was light blue, and it reflected light like crystals. And there was a beach house peaking out of the trees where the beach streatched into a forest.

He landed in front of the beach house, but otherwise both of them remained completely still and silent. It was at least ten seconds before one of them decided to speak up.

“So...” Morty started, deliberately not looking at Rick. He instead stared out at the beach. “What are we doing here, Rick?”

Rick cleared his throat. “W-well, ah...” He pulled the handle on his door to open it and started walking towards the beach house. Morty quickly exited the ship so he could follow him. “I thought... it would be better... if we talked somewhere more... s-secluded, y’know? On Earth, we risk your mom or Summer overhearing us... a-and...” He trailed off as he stepped up onto the porch. He also didn’t want anyone else to try and prevent him from leaving, but he couldn’t say that to the boy. “Anyway, t-this planet is called Athyna 9.” He changed the subject in order to steer his way out of having to further explain.

“Y-yeah...” Morty stammered behind him, knowing exactly what Rick meant. It wasn’t something either of them would want to explain, should anyone overhear their conversation.

Rick stopped in front of the door, his shoulders tensing. The door seemed to be made out of... metal...? “I-I’ve never brought someone here to this planet be—before, a-and I wasn’t planning on it either. S-so don’t... don’t expect anything crazy or grand out here. T-this isn’t gonna be anything like our adventures, a-and I highly doubt any of this is gonna be fun...”

Morty rubbed his arm self-consciously as he listened to Rick talk. He felt as if he was the source of all of Rick’s pain, and he hated it. He hated it so much. He just wanted Rick to be happy, or at the very least close to happy. These past two weeks had been horrible, and his emotions had gone fucking crazy. He just couldn’t keep a leash on them like he used to. It was frustrating, and annoying, and just... _ugh!_ He just felt bad all of the time, and he just wanted all of this to be over with. “Ok.” He said quietly, sounding strained. He didn’t really know how to respond. It’s not like he was expecting a party... he’d kinda known that wherever they went wasn’t going to be exciting.

Rick’s shoulders relaxed and a reached out to a panel that was next to the door. He opened it and placed his hand on the scanner that was inside.

It chirped at him. _“Voice authorization?”_ rang a female-like robotic voice, just like the spaceship’s.

“Rick Sanchez, C-one-six-two.” Rick responded.

It chirped at him again. _“Access granted.”_ there was yet another chirp. _“There is an unauthorized personnel with you. If you do not want me to obliterate them upon entry, please add them to the white-list.”_

“Uh, _w-what??”_ Morty’s stammered, taking a step back. He gave Rick a panicked look.

“Chill, Morty.” Rick said. “Add Morty Smith to the white-list.”

_“Granted. Morty Smith, state your name and dimension number for future voice authorization.”_

Rick glanced back at Morty, who was looking back at him with a mixture of confusion and fear. He nudged him with his elbow. “Name and dimension, M-Morty, just like I did.”

Morty nodded. “Morty Smith, C-one-six-two.” He parroted saying his dimension number the way Rick did, even though he’d never heard anyone say it that way.

_“Place hand on scanner.”_

Morty did as he was told and it scanned his hand.

“ _Access granted to Rick Sanchez and Morty Smith.”_ It chirped.

The metal door slid open and Morty quickly scrambled to follow Rick inside. It was actually kind of nice inside, contrary to what Morty had expected. It was large and roomy. The walls and floors were made out of wood, and there were a few rugs in convenient places. You could see most of it from the front door— to the right there was a kitchen with an Island. To the left, there was a living room with a dusty looking couch, a flat screen TV, and a coffee table. However, there was a hallway that Morty couldn’t really see down because it was dark.

“W-wow, did you build this place?” Morty asked. Everything was a little dusty, but other than that it was pretty clean and tidy. It was nothing like the haphazardly thrown together organized-mess that made up most of Rick’s room and the garage.

“Y-yeah,” Rick responded as he walked into the kitchen. Morty was just now noticing that there were two refrigerators. Rick opened one of them and the only thing in that refrigerator was alcohol— More bottles were in that fridge than Morty had ever seen in one place before. It left him to assume that _that_ refrigerator was for just alcohol, while the other probably held actual food. _‘Typical Rick.’_ Morty thought to himself. Rick pulled out a bottle of some kind of alien alcohol Morty’d never seen before. “This place has been around, what, forty years now? I-I must have been somewhere in my thirties when I found this planet. I-I actually haven’t been back here s-since I moved in w-with you guys.”

Morty looked around, taking in all the details of the place. There were pictures on the walls, most of them with either Birdperson or Squanchy.

He found one of himself— a school photo from kindergarten. His hair was much shorter, and straightened with gel, and there was a big dopey smile on his face. He was wearing a yellow long-sleeved shirt with a faint, mostly washed away picture of a spaceship on it.

There was one of Summer, too, when she was maybe in the third grade— all smiling and happy with a pink dress and pigtails, a gap in her front two teeth, which she’d later straightened out with braces. Morty hadn’t seen Summer wear pigtails since she was in the sixth grade. (The teen distantly wondered how Rick had gotten those two photos.)

There were a couple of Beth when she was younger, too, and some of them had a woman in them that Morty could only assume was his grandmother. She looked... _a lot_ like Beth, but at the same time she was strikingly different.

Rick was fumbling around in the kitchen as Morty walked around to inspect all the pictures. He stopped at one that seemed to have been taken while Rick and his grandmother had been laughing. Rick looked much younger in the photo, with fuller, neater hair, and less wrinkles around his face. His skin wasn’t as grey, and he was wearing a black band t-shirt and ripped blue-jeans. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was smiling widely with an arm draped around Morty’s grandmother. His grandmother had pointy cheekbones, and short blond hair that was pulled up into a bun. She was beautiful, Morty couldn’t help but notice. She looked like someone who was delicate, but not a push-over either. She was smiling at the camera with round, emerald green eyes.

After a moment of staring, his focus shifted to his own reflection in the glass, the emerald green of his own eyes matching those of his grandmother’s. He shuttered, feeling slightly nauseous. While most people would have been elated to find they have certain similarities to a family member, Morty was not. This fact only served to remind him that Rick used to be in love with his _grandmother._ He was Rick’s _grandson._ Rick fucked his grandma in order for him to even _exist._ Everything about how he felt was fucked up, and he was _disgusting._

What would his grandmother think of him if she were still alive and knew about his fucked up feelings? Morty knew nothing about her— hell, this was the first time he’d even seen _pictures_ of her. He’d asked his mom about her once, but she got so emotional and broken down about her that he never asked her about it again. And asking Rick about her wasn’t an option either— if Beth was that sensitive about the subject, who the hell knows how Rick would react if he asked.

He just knew that Beth loved her very much and didn’t like bringing it up because it hurt too much. She must have been amazing. She must have been someone great for his mother to be so broken up about her death. And Morty was terrible, so _so_ terrible. _What the hell was wrong with him?_

Shame crept up his spine, looming over his shoulder like a shadow. “Ah, geez...” He muttered to himself quietly, feeling like knifes were stabbing him in the back and twisting around.

“What? What is it?” Rick asked. Morty could see him approach from behind through the reflection in the glass.

“N-nothing, I just...” He trailed off, shivering slightly. He felt nauseous still.

Rick looked at the picture Morty was staring at. “Oh...” He looked away, a deep wound blooming at the surface of his mind. “That’s ah... that’s Diane. Y-your grandma, I guess...” He explained bitterly, but Morty didn’t notice the distaste in his voice.

“Right. Yeah.” Morty looked shamefully down at his feet. “Sorry, I just...” He paused, tightly clenching his hands. “...N-Never—Never mind...”

Rick swallowed. “Y-you, uh...” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “Your eyes look just like hers...” He said sorrowfully. Rick scoffed after a moment. “S-sometimes... you kinda sound like her, too. Y-you just— you say things that I’d imagine _her_ saying. Drives me nuts sometimes.” He was struggling with all this emotional bullshit. He’d loved Diane at some point in his life, but... those feelings for her had died long ago. Morty reminded him of the Diane he’d fallen in love with, rather than the one she’d ended up actually being.

Morty turned to look at him. His eyes were slightly watery and he looked really detached. “Is that... a bad or good thing...?” There was hope in his voice. He hoped Rick could make him feel better— he hoped Rick would say something that would make this situation easier. He needed it.

“Fuck if I know.” Rick shrugged, not meeting the teens eyes. He didn’t want to think about _her..._ because Morty was nothing like the true Diane. The only reason he hadn’t taken down every photo of her and burned them was because he’d never really had the time to.

Morty let out a shaky breath as he turned back to the picture. God, he was so fucked up. There had to be something mentally wrong with him. There _was_ something wrong with him. He hesitated before speaking. “D-did... did you love her?” He asked timidly.

Rick was silent for a long while before answering. It took him so long that Morty almost thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Y-y-yeah, kid. I loved her with all m-my heart.” He said, before quickly tacking on a short, “For a while,” as if he was clarifying something. He left it unsaid, for now, that he’d lost that love for her long before she died, due to an act of betrayal that tore his heart in half.

Morty nodded to indicate that he’d heard him. More tears were forming in his eyes, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he felt so broken right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And please tell me what you guys think, I love to hear everyone’s thoughts. Really keeps me going <3


	5. Everything Is Fine When You’re Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadness.

Morty followed Rick out to the beach, where the two of them sat down near the waters edge. The water never reached close enough to touch them, receding back into the ocean before it could even reach their toes. They had left their shoes and socks back at the beach house.

The pink waves were weird to Morty, however he still found them to be beautiful. Things were calm, for now. It was nice to pretend everything was alright for a while. Sometimes people just needed that.

The sun was setting in the distance, looking not much unlike Earth’s sunset. Oranges, pinks, reds, and blues... all mixed together like water colors against a white canvas, creating a beautifully painted picture for the two of them to see.

The teen dug his toes into the sand, recalling a memory from years and years ago when he’d gone on vacation with his family, long before he’d even known Rick existed. Back then, Beth and Jerry seemed to be a little more happy, and he and Summer had been closer.

He must’ve been about five years old, and it had been his first and only time ever being at the beach. Beth and Jerry were sitting in beach chairs, sipping colorful drinks from fancy looking glasses. They were talking about things Morty couldn’t really remember, and they were laughing... and smiling warmly at each other like they were in love.

Summer helped him build a sand castle. In all honesty, Morty remembers the castle looking large and grand, but in all reality it wasn’t; it was horribly made, and falling apart, but neither of them really cared at the time. It was perfect just the way it was.

Everything seemed perfect when you were five years old. You never questioned if your parents were in love. You never had to deal with too much responsibility. You were never observant enough to see when things around you were falling apart. Everything was always just so... blissful and perfect, like nothing could ever go wrong.

But as time goes on, and you get smarter and more aware of yourself and others... you start to realize that good things don’t last forever and after a while everything starts to disintegrate.

Morty had watched helplessly as his parent’s picture-perfect marriage started to deteriorate. He watched as his sister started to push him away. He watched as everyone around him in school found a friend, while he continued to sit alone at the lunch table every day. He watched as people stopped actually seeing him, and started seeing _through_ him, like he was nothing more than just a little kid. He watched as he slowly started to lose himself as everyone looked away.

He watched as the world became grey, and he became lonely.

And he’d tried to make connections with people. He put effort into making friends, into turning his life around. Only, all of his attempts had been shoved back in his face. It’s like he was deaf and blind and mute, all at once. It’s like he didn’t even really exists as a person.

And just when he thought he’d be alone forever— just when he’d thought there was no one out there for him— a man showed up at their doorstep. When Morty met him he had, at first, considered that Rick might actually be insane. And part of him _still_ thinks that he might be. But Rick had saved him.

He smelled like a drunk, and he drooled and burped a lot. He was loud, and careless, and rude. Many might even say he’s sadistic. He had weird looking hair— all spiky and messy, and unnaturally _blue_ like he was out of some silly comic or cartoon.

But the man took an interest in Morty for some reason. He began to drag him on what he liked to call _‘adventures.’_ He’d say, _“Let’s g-bBBURRRrrp-go on an adventure, Morty!”_ and then he’d grab him by the wrist and drag him off to some other part of the universe.

It scared the shit out of him the first time Rick opened a goddamn portal in the middle of the garage. It scared him when Rick flew them into space with a Spaceship he’d made from junk he’d found laying around in the garage. It scared him when they went to other alien planets, and other dimensions. However, with time he got used to it, and it became the norm for him. Aliens, different realities and dimensions, _other versions of themselves._ All of that was a part of his life now, and he even grew to love the adventures at some point.

He craved the adrenaline and the thrill of it all. He craved the sight of the stars, and the many experience that came with visiting other planets and dimensions. Sure, he had some bad days while exploring the multi-verse, but in the end it was always worth it. It was worth it because he got to see things that most people couldn’t even imagine— got to experience things that some people could only _dream_ of doing. An most of all, he got to be with Rick through it all.

At first, he discovered, that the reason the man even dragged him along was because of his brainwaves. But over time, he realized that a genuine friendship had started to form between them. Rick was selfish, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t care— it didn’t mean he couldn’t _learn_ to care.

Rick had saved him from loneliness. He’d saved him from the monotonous normalcy of his life. And now he was more than he ever could have been if Rick had not shown up.

He knows that what he feels for the man is wrong and inappropriate, but how could he not fall for the man that showed him what the universe really was? How could he not fall for him when Rick was the closest person to him— when Rick was the only person who really cared about him?

Sometimes his faith in the man did falter. Sometimes he was sure that he was insane for ever liking the old man, but... no matter what, Rick was always there when it counted. Sometimes Rick just didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and Morty could see it. But one way or another, he always did come around when it mattered, even when Morty doubted him.

Morty tore his gaze away from the sunset, looking over at Rick, who was idly sipping from a bottle of whatever-the-fuck alien alcoholic drink he picked this time, as he watched the display of colors before them. He seemed to be lost in thought, troubled by something that was internally plaguing him.

And of course, there was. There was no doubt about it. Rick wasn’t okay. He was less okay that Morty had ever really seen him. Even when Unity had dumped him, Rick had never acted this way. He’d never _cried_ over something. And Morty didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix what had been broken.

What exactly was broken, he didn’t know. Their friendship? The secret barriers that hid the truth of how they really felt?

You can’t exactly fix anything until you know what’s broken. And Morty was determined to fix things between them, even if it meant that he’d never get Rick in the way that he really wanted. Losing Rick completely was worse than setting up boundaries and uncrossable lines. And he was willing to set those lines up. He was willing to figure this shit out with him.

He couldn’t lose Rick. He’d soon rather die than lose Rick— the scientist was all he had in this world. He really did love him. He loved him more than he loved the air he needed to breathe.

“R-Rick?” He spoke up timidly, pushing his hands through the blue sand in order to quell some of his anxiety. “Can I ask... how you honestly feel about me?”

Rick turned to look at him, an almost surprised look on his face, like he hadn’t been expecting that kind of question. But as he thought about it and sort of stared at the teenager, his cheeks darkened a shade of red. “Ugh.” He laid flat on his back and placed his arm over his eyes in order to sort of hide himself. “M-bUUUrRp-Morty, y-y-you can’t just— just spontaneously spring _that_ kind of question on me with absolutely no warning in advance. Geez...”

“I-I-I-sorry!” The teen quickly stammered, feeling his cheeks become extremely warm with his embarrassment. _Had he really just asked that?_ “I-I-I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking!” With a groan he pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them.

There was a long silence as they sat like this, Rick not really knowing how to respond, and Morty feeling too awkward and dumb to face Rick right now. The only sound that remained was the sound of the gentle waves crashing against the shore line, and birds that kind of resembled seagulls squawking in the air. It was peaceful, even, despite the awkward tension that had formed between them.

After Rick had managed to gather his thoughts, he decided that it would make the kid feel better if he were to answer him. The cat was already out of the bag now, and they _both_  knew all of his drunk words were sober thoughts. There was no way he’d be able to lie his way out of this now. “I... I really do love you, Morty...” He said quietly.

“Like how you loved Diane?” He asked, once again without really thinking about it. “Shit. _Fuck!”_ Morty untangled himself and stood up from the ground on shaky legs. He glared our at the horizon as if it were the cause of all of this, even though he knew this was purely his own fault. “I-I’m literally asking the worst possible questions right now!”

Rick sat up and grabbed Morty’s wrist. “W-whatever, Morty, it’s alright.” He said, tugging him back down. “Just—just lay the fuck down. I-I’ll answer your questions, no matter, uh, how... how bad they are.” He spoke honestly. Rick was ready to open himself up. His biggest secret was out now anyway, so... what more could he possibly have to hide from the boy? It’s the least he could do for him after everything he’s put him through. _And what he’s going to put him through._

Morty stared down at Rick. Was he hearing things, or did Rick just offer to answer any and all of his silly questions? It was an offer so unlikely to happen that Morty, for a moment, wasn’t even sure he could trust that this was _his_ Rick. But as he thought back to the beach house, and how you had to state your name and dimension to get inside, he knew undoubtedly that this was actually, genuinely, _his_ Rick offering something so precious to him. This was his chance to really see Rick. To find out what really makes him who he was. And he couldn’t ask for anything more intimate between them than that.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know right now, especially with all that was going on between them. But maybe he’d find something in Rick that would put his mind at ease.

So, with that thought in mind, he laid himself down on his back against the sand, staring up at the sky. He could see a few stars already starting to peak out in the growing darkness as the sun was slowly vanishing behind the distant shoreline. 

Unexpectedly, Rick reached out to lace their fingers together. It made Morty feel kind of small all of a sudden.

Rick’s hand was calloused from years of tinkering on machines and battling in space, while Morty’s hands were soft and smooth, due to his young age and inexperience. And Rick’s hand were so much bigger than his were— he recalled a distant memory of Rick telling him his hands looked like they belonged to an 8-year-old girl.

“Yes and no.” Rick answered Morty’s previous question, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Morty’s hand as a way to comfort him. “I _did_ love Diane, Morty. But only in the beginning.”

“Why only in the b-beginning, Rick?” Morty asked, relaxing as Rick spoke.

“Well... we were young.” Rick explained, sounding bitter at the thought. “W-we got married when we were maybe around twenty years old, a-a-a couple years after high school. But... I guess I wasn’t enough, or something. Diane... s-she cheated on me, Morty. Fucking slut.” He grumbled. “She’d been cheating on me for _five_ years before I found out. But... don’t tell your mom, alright? I don’t want her to see Diane differently.”

The years and years of lying Diane had put him though had really fucked him up— and cheating wasn’t the only thing she’d done. There had been a lot of manipulation from her part in the relationship, and Rick’s mental state had been fucked up for a long time because of it. But that didn’t mean he wanted Beth’s image of Diane to be any different— Rick knows he was a shitty dad to her. At least, if Beth never found out about how Diane truly was, and what she’d done to him, she could live believing that at least she had a good mom.

Morty squeezed Rick hand in a way that he hoped was reassuring. “Y-you said... I sound like her sometimes?” Morty was still unsure if that was a good or bad thing. And after what Rick had just revealed to him, he was starting to assume it was the later: a bad thing.

“Y-yeah, but...” Rick sighed. “Like I said, I _had_ been in love with her at some point. I-I was thinking of my good memories when I said that to you, Morty. You remind me of the good parts of her— none of the bad stuff. And even though sometimes you remind me of her, I see you as a completely different person, too. S-so... don’t start thinkin’ I only like you because of that.”

 

“...do you still want to leave?”

 

The question hung in the air, like a shadow looming over the both of them. Morty didn’t want to hear the answer, but he had to know. He needed to know if Rick was still going to leave him.

 

Rick didn’t want to leave. But...

 

“I h-have to, Morty...”

 

“You don’t, R-Rick.” Morty sat up suddenly, looking down at Rick with a sense of panic in his eyes. “Y-you have a choice.”

“And the right choice is t-to _leave,_ Morty.” Rick said, looking away so he didn’t have to see that look on Morty’s face.

“Since w-when do _you_ care about the right choice? I’ve s-seen you destroy and create whole worlds, Rick! I’ve seen you kill for fun, and steal things even when you know someone else needs it more than you!” Morty exasperated— he hadn’t even gone into _half_ of the unspeakable things he’d seen Rick do, but that was besides the point right now. “B-but screwing your grandson is where you draw t-the fucking line?! How does that make sense?!” His voice grew louder with each sentence, his frustration and confusion becoming more obvious. He didn’t sound particularly _angry_ despite how much he was yelling. He just seemed... desperate to get his point across.

“It makes sense because I a-actually fucking care about you!” Rick yelled, causing Morty to clench his jaw and turn his full attention to him. Rick sat up and grabbed the boy roughly by the arms, shaking him gently as he continued to speak. Morty really needed to listen to him right now. He needed him to understand. “Two weeks ago, Morty... two weeks ago I really... _really_ hurt you. A-and I’ve hurt you before that, too, haven’t I? Imagine h-how bad I would get... if our relationship was...” He swallowed, unable to say it. “I w-would destroy you, Morty. A-and I can’t allow myself to do that to you, and that’s why I _have_ to leave. D-do you understand?”

 

“But Rick—“

 

“No.” Rick cut him off. “T-this is just how it has to be, M-Morty. _Please_ understand.”

“...Rick, you’re all I have...” Morty said, tears pooling in his emerald green eyes. His heart was hammering away in his chest, and he felt that he might even faint from the fear of losing Rick. “P-please don’t do this to me. I-I wasn’t kidding when I-I-I said we could even go back to normal— pretend this never even happened. That’s kind of what we had already b-been doing before w-we found out how we both feel, Rick. I-I’d rather pretend my feelings for you don’t exist than lose you entirely. I-I-I decided that a _long_ time ago, w-way before I even found out you feel the same.”

Rick shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He took in a breath of air before shakily speaking. “I-I don’t want to p-pretend, Morty. _I can’t.”_ He leaned forward and buried his face in Morty’s chest in order to hide the overwhelming amount of emotions that had crossed over him. “I’ve been pretending f-for so long. I’ve been pretending to be okay, pretending that life is fine. B-but it’s not. Nothing will ever be okay. And I-I can’t add _this_ situation to the number of things I’m already pretending don’t exist. N-not when... not when I know that I could a-actually have you, now. N-not when I know that you’d except me... a-a-and let me... l-let me _do_ things to you. A-and I can’t _do_  those thing with you, because I’d just end up h-hurting you...”

“Rick...” Morty says, but he doesn’t know how to continue— he doesn’t know what to say. His mind is speeding too quickly, mixing together so much that he can hardly distinguish what’s happening inside his own mind. All he knows is that he’s panicking, and that Rick is leaving. His entire body starts shaking— he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do— how he’s supposed to make Rick _stay._ He grasps at Rick’s arms, holding on so tightly that he’s sure he’s leaving crescent marks on Rick’s skin, even through his lab coat and sweater. “ _Please stay...”_  He whispers, so quietly that he’s not even sure Rick heard him at all.

And then something’s jabbing into his arm, sharp and piercing though his skin. Rick pulls back, looking at Morty with an expression that can only be described as _guilty._ Like he’s done something that he knows he shouldn’t have done.

That’s when Morty notices the needle in Rick’s hand— and the tears in the teens eye swell as he’s filled with the emotion of betrayal. _Rick drugged him with something_. “R-Rick...?” He stares at Rick as his whole body starts to feel heavy, and it gets harder and harder to keep himself sitting up. He released Rick’s arms and pulls back like he’d been burned, feeling his heart break inside of him. He puts his hand on his shoulder where Rick had injected him with something, staring up at the man with hurt-filled eyes.

“I’m sorry, M-Morty...” Rick’s voice sounds distorted and distant, and black spots start to dance in his vision. He can see tears in Rick’s crystal blue eyes, though... the vibrant color of his irises standing out over everything else. “I’m sorry for everything...”

He starts to fall forward, unable to keep himself up any longer, and Rick catches him in his arms, full on sobbing as he looks down at Morty. He runs his hands through Morty’s hair, apologizing over and over again like a mantra. “W-why...?” Morty rasps. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking.

 

_Why are you doing this?_

_Why are you leaving me?_

_Why can’t you stay?_

_Why can’t you listen to me?_

_Why can’t you just give me a chance?_

__

_**Why are you hurting me like this?** _

 

Maybe his question is a horrifying combination of all of them. He reaches up to grab at Rick’s lab coat, but he can’t seem to grasp it too well, his fingers abnormally weak, and his finger tips practically numb at this point so that he can’t even feel the texture. His eyes and limbs feel too heavy, and his thoughts are starting to significantly slow and become muddy.

Rick takes a moment to compose himself before he’s able to say something that isn’t a choked out apology. Shakily, he said, “It’s for your own good, Morty.”

As Morty’s consciousness fades, he distantly hears Rick’s voice say, “I will always love you, Morty...”

 

* * *

 

 

Rick sat for a long time, holding Morty’s unconscious form in his arms on the beach. These were his very last, fleeting moments with him. After this, he wasn’t ever gonna see him again.

“O-one day, y-y-you’ll understand, Morty.” He said, knowing that Morty couldn’t actually hear him. All talking to him was doing was putting his mind a little more at ease. “One day, y-you’ll realize w-what a fucked u-up guy I am, a-and you’ll forget all about me. Y-you’ll live a normal life, a-and maybe marry that Jessica girl, and maybe you’ll even have kids of your one day one day. Y-you’ll forget _all_ about me, I promise.”

He brushed some of the brown curls out of Morty’s face. “I-I know you’ll never forgive me, but _I’m sorry.”_ He cried. “I’m s-so, so sorry... I’m sorry for hurting you. I-I’m sorry for r-running away again, l-like the _horrible person that I am._ I’m sorry I couldn’t fix this.”

Rick shifted Morty in his arms, bringing the boy’s head up to himself and planting a soft kiss to the boy’s forehead. “I’m sorry I-I couldn’t be better for you... I’m sorry I’m such a _coward_.”

 

“Take care of y-your mom for me, kid.”

 

“I love you, M-Morty...”

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Morty came to, the first thing he saw was his bedroom’s ceiling. He couldn’t tell if he’d just woken up from a dream, or if the whole thing had been real. He sat up slowly, feeling like there was a fog over his brain.

He squinted, looking over his room. Everything looked to be in place, it seemed. After staring around for a moment, he spotted his shoes neatly placed by the door, with his socks carefully tucked inside. He’s never done that before.

He reached a hand up to his hair, threading his fingers through the brown strands. Morty froze when he felt something grainy— _like sand._

 

_It hadn’t been a dream._

 

Morty shot up from his best, and made a beeline for the door, and down the stairs, going down two at a time. On his way to the garage he passed by the living room where he saw everyone— including his dad— hanging out. Everyone except for Rick.

His dad said something to greet him, but Morty didn’t hear it. Instead, he slammed the garage door open forcefully, only to find...

An empty garage, devoid of Rick and _everything_ that belonged to him. All of his inventions, gadgets, protect, and more were gone. Even the hatch that led to the subterranean lab was gone, as if it had never even been there at all.

And instead of sadness— instead of collapsing to the floor and crying— Morty was fucking _furious._ Rick _fucking_ ran away— as he always does— _he fucking ran away from his problems._

And Morty was going to get him back if it was the last goddamn thing he did.

 

 


	6. Anger and pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez, Morty is pissed in this one. >__<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s short, sorry guys. But I was struck with inspiration, and I had to write it down before I lost it. Despite how short it is, I did feel like this chapter was pretty complete, though, so hopefully you guys think so, too. XD

Morty sat at the dining room table, radiating anger, and stabbing at his food. He wasn’t hungry— he was too angry to be hungry.

 

Rick’s absence and Morty’s mood seemed to set the other three occupants at the table on edge, everyone stiff and silent as they ate, all subtly glancing at each other and wondering what was happening.

Jerry was the first one to speak, the only one dumb enough to think it was a good idea to poke an angry bear with a stick. He cleared his throat. “So, Morty, how’ve you been?”

Morty snapped his head in his direction. “Just _fine._ ” He ground out bitterly. “Everything’s just _perfect.”_

“Mortimer, I don’t like your tone, young man.” Jerry narrowed his eyes, taking on his _‘angry father’_ persona.

Morty saw red. _Did really just fucking use the ‘Mortimer’ card?_ Jerry had no clue what he was messing with right now. He was _so fucking pissed_ already, and Jerry was only adding fuel to the blazing fire consuming everything inside him. “Y-yeah? W-well, I don’t like your fucking _face.”_ The brunette spat back, clenching his teeth as he did so. “You can’t talk to me like that, you don’t have that right anymore, _Jerry.”_  If his father can pull the _‘Mortimer’_ card, _he_ could pull the _‘Jerry’_ card. Fair is fair, right?

Jerry immediately seemed to shrink in on himself. _How pathetic._ Can’t even stand up to his own son when he lashes out.

Summer looked up from her phone in shock, staring at Morty with wide eyes. “Geez, Morty, what crawled up _your_ ass and died?”

Morty snapped his attention in Summer’s direction and glared at her for a long moment, neither teen’s gaze wavering in the slightest.

“Morty, sweetie, what’s wrong? What’s gotten into you?” Beth asked, trying to cut the tension in the air that had formed. She was looking at him with an expression that was both worried and angry, like she couldn’t fucking _believe_ how Morty was acting. “And where’s Rick?”

Morty scoffed, leaning back in his chair so that the two front legs lifted off the ground. “Rick’ll be back soon, mom. Don’t w-worry about him, alright?” He let his chair fall back down to the ground safely before pushing back and excusing himself from the table. He’d make damn sure Rick came back.

On his way up the stairs, he heard Jerry sternly call for him to _‘Come back here, young man,’_ but Morty’s ignored him. Jerry had only grated on his nerves, even if it had been unintentional at first. He wanted everyone to leave him alone, so he slammed his bedroom door in hopes that it would convey that message. _He didn’t have time for this shit._

He distantly heard his parents start arguing downstairs. _‘Great.’_ Morty thought. _‘Even when they’re divorced, they still fight.’_

He decided to ignore it. It didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was finding Rick.

He just had to find something first.

The teen sat down at his desk, rummaging through his many clutter-filled drawers. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d opened these damn things.

He found some unfinished homework from the third grade, and stared at it for a moment in confusion. _‘Wow. Just, wow.’_ He thought to himself. _‘I’m super fucking unorganized.’_

After going through at least four draws filled with clutter, he _finally_ found it.

“F-fucking _finally.”_  He pulled the half-crumpled flyer out of the draw, flattening it out on his desk with his hands.

 

_**‘Need a Portal Gun? Too busy to make a knew one?’** _

 

Morty read the flyer.

 

**_‘Call this number on your inter-dimensional cell phone now! — B-1263891636 - H5-7719469103619’_ **

 

The flyer was a light blue, with the picture of a Portal Gun printed in shades of black in the center of it. Morty’d picked up the flyer during one of the few times him and Rick’d gone to the citadel for some reason or another. He’d thought, at the time, that maybe it’d come in useful one day.

That day was today.

He was fucking lucky he’d gotten Rick to give him an inter-dimensional cell phone stick. It took him another few minutes searching through his desk drawers before he found that, too. It kinda reminded Morty of one of those weird dongle things people used.

He stuck it into his phone’s charging port, and waited patiently as his phone restarted so it could process its new features, and then he opened his calling app.

He hesitated only for a second before dialing the number and holding it up to his ear.

It rang three times before someone answered. _“Heyo, this is Rick B-67 speaking. How can I h-bBBUURrRp-help you?”_ a Rick’s voice said. He sounded bored.

“Hi, I’m Morty C-162.” He said plainly. “I-I need to make a deal with you.”

_“Are you calling on b-behalf of your Rick?”_ B-67 asked, sounding increasingly more bored as the call went on.

Morty leaned back in his chair, debating on whether or not he should lie. He sighed. Rick’s were too good at sniffing out lies, It’d never work. “N-no,” He answered honestly.

_“I’m sorry t-to inform y-you, but only R-Rick’s are permitted to buy Portal Guns—“_

“Hear me o-out, okay?” Morty interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose in pure irritation. “I’ll pay _triple_ whatever the price is. I-I’m desperate and pissed off, and I _need_ a Portal Gun. It’s the only way I’ll ever see my Rick again.”

B-67 was silent for a second. _“Holy shit, k-kid, you fuckin’ had me at **triple.** Y-you do realize that’ll be t-three millions Flurbos, right?”_ He suddenly sounded much more interested in the conversation.

“Yes,” Morty responded. He could get that much money with a little time. “B-but, you’ll have to be patient, a-alright? I need the Portal Gun first, a-and I’ll pay you off later.”

_“Okay, hold on a minute, C-162,”_ B-67 said. There was some shuffling on the other end, leading Morty to guess that he was moving around, or something. _“A-Alright, kid, here’s the deal,”_ He said. _“I can’t give you a Portal Gun until you pay me **at least**  one million.”_

“Goddamnit, I-I can’t pay until I have a Portal Gun,” Morty growled into the phone. He was not in the mood for this shit. “I’m literally _stuck_ on Earth r-right now. I’m broke! B-but if you want that three million, I _need_ a Portal Gun _first_.”

“ _Jeez, never m-met a Morty as hot-headed as you,”_ B-67 scoffed on the other end.

“Yeah, no shit. E-everything’s going wrong today. I just need a fucking Portal Gun!” Morty grabbed the flyer in his hand, crumbling it up in his fist.

_“Four million, and I’ll pay for the Portal Gun for you.”_ B-67 whispered into the phone.

A lightbulb went off in Morty’s head. “I’ll agree to that if you do me _one_ more favor.”

B-67 groaned. _“You’re making this complicated, k-kid.”_ He said. _“What’s the favor?”_

 

“I-I need to know if there’s a way to track Rick C-162’s Portal Gun history remotely.”

B-67 groaned super loudly this time. _“Fucking **fine,** I’ll find a way to get you a Portal Gun tracker. Y-your Rick’s Portal Gun is registered in the council files, r-right?”_

“Y-yeah, it should be.” Morty felt waves and waves of relief wash over him, calming his frayed nerves. He relaxed his hand, which was still tightly gripping the flyer.

 

_“A-alright, so listen, Morty C-162, this is gonna take me a couple days, alright? So y-you’re just going to have to hang tight. I’ll text you my personal inter-dimensional number so that we can contact each other in private.”_ B-67 explained. _“You h-have no idea how many council laws I’m gonna be breaking, kid. Portal Gun trackers are fucking_ ** _illegal,_** _man. And **selling** a Portal Gun to a **Morty** is even more illegal.”_

“Isn’t the president a Morty now?” Morty wondered. “S-shouldn’t we all be seen as equals now b-because of that?”

B-67 sighed. _“Y-yeah, President Morty is working on fixing that. C-can’t fix **all** the citadels problems in just one month, y’know?”_

“I guess.” Morty shrugged. “A-anyway, thanks. Y-you have no clue how much this is gonna help me.”

_“As long as you get me my Flurbos, it’s all good, kid.”_ B-67 assures. _“I’ll call ya back whenever I have your shit.”_

B-67 hung up before Morty could respond.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Morty found a duffle bag in his closet. He knew Rick had definitely covered his tracks, somehow. Rick always covered his tracks.

It was probably going to take him a long time to find Rick, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the journey. He’d never really traveled without Rick, and the times he did, it pretty much ended in disaster. But, he was definitely gonna try. He had to.

He was gonna find Rick, and if he has to, he’s gonna drag him back home by his fucking _ear._

Rick had run away from everything. From Earth, from his problems, from Beth when she was younger, and now _him._

And Morty would be the one who was gonna drag him back. Because, unlike all the others, he had that power. And he was fucking _pissed._

In fact, Morty believed pissed was an understatement. If he thought he was mad at Rick two weeks ago, then _oh boy,_ he hadn’t known what rage was back then. He’d been super mad at Rick, but this time was _worse._ Rick running away like that felt like the altamate betrayal, especially with how he did it.

That asshole fucking _drugged_ him in the middle of their conversation, and Morty wasn’t happy about that _at all._  It had been a really low fucking blow, and Rick was gonna have a peice if his goddamn mind when Morty found him. He hadn’t even had the chance to say what he really needed to say. The conversation was _incomplete,_ as far as the teen was concerned, and he was determined to finish it.

He began stuffing a few pairs of clothes into the duffle bag, and other essential items he might need. Like, the laser gun Rick’d given him to keep in his room _‘just in case,’_ a pocket knife, a lighter, a universal translater, and a few things to entertain himself with if he ever got stuck in one place for a while. He also packed things like a toothbrush, a comb, deodorant, and some soap if he ever had the chance to take a shower.

And last of all, he pulled a box out from under his bed that had a collection of several different kinds of alien currency. It’d definitely be enough to last him several months if he rationed it well, and if he ran out, he could always take an odd job on the side. He and Rick had done that before in desperate moments.

In the process of packing, there was a knock on his door, and before he even answered, whoever it was opened his door anyway. He wonder what the point of knocking was if they were just going to barge in anyway.

It was Summer, and Morty narrowed his eyes at her.

She looked at him and then at the duffle bag. “Are you running away or something?” She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly in curiosity.

Morty scoffed. “No, I-I’m going to get Rick. H-He ran into some trouble a-and now I have to save him.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie. _Rick was definitely going to be in some shit when Morty got ahold of him, that’s for sure._

Summer crossed her arms, scowling down at her little brother. “What’s up with you today? You’re acting like a dick.”

Morty groaned, zipping up his duffle back with more force and speed than necessary and tossing it in his closet. He didn’t actually need it until B-67 called him back. “I-I’m just not in a good mood, okay?” He rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “R-Rick did something stupid, and now it’s up to me to fix it, and not only is it stressful, but we left off on a bad note and I’m really mad at him.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to take it out on the rest of your family.” She rolled her eyes, huffing.

Morty paused, his whole body tensing. “I’m s-sorry,” He was genuinely sorry— he knew it wasn’t right of him to snap at them when it wasn’t even their fault. But honestly, the only reason he said it was because he wanted Summer to leave.

She hadn’t cared when Morty had been depressed in the past two weeks, hauled up in his room, completely heartbroken. She only cared if she was directly affected, like she had been when Morty had glared at her, and when she’d had to deal with Beth and Jerry arguing once he’d left.

Summer didn’t really care about him. Maybe she did to some extent, but not enough to want to help him when he was down.

The older sibling scoffed. “Whatever, Morty, I’m going to bed. Night.”

“Night.” Morty replied back, watching Summer leave.

He closed the door behind her and collapsed down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

All he had to do for now was wait for B-67 to call him.

 

 

* * *

 

Rick told himself that what he was doing was right.

 

He hated himself.

 

He wanted to kill himself.

 

But, he didn’t. And he didn’t know why.

 

Maybe it was because he still had some lingering hope.

Maybe it was because he knew Morty was still out there, even though he was never going to see him again.

 

He didn’t know.

 

He didn’t care.

 

He still hated himself.

 

He didn’t know where to go.

 

_‘God, what do I do without Morty?’_ He asked himself. _‘What have I done?’_

First and for most, he made himself a bracelet that gave off a wavelength identical to Morty’s.

He hated the bracelet. It was such a stupid bracelet.

He’d rather have Morty with them than wear it.

 

_‘But you can’t go back, Rick.’_

 

_**‘You’re alone now, you sick fuck.’** _

 

He used a shrink ray to shrink all of his stuff, from both the garage and his bedroom, and he put it all in a small cardboard box that he sealed closed with blue duct tape.

His first destination was Birdperson’s old nest on planet Birdworld. But, he quickly discovered that staying there would not be an option. It felt wrong to stay in his dead best friend’s house, even though he knew BP would’ve welcomed him with open arms if he was still alive.

And so, he started dimension hopping, randomly imputing numbers and codes into his Portal Gun, going to locations he’d never even been to before.

Sometimes he opened several different portals at once just to increase the randomness of which place he’d be spit out in.

He searched for hours, until his Portal Gun ran out of charge and he had to settle down in an alien hotel for the night. He left his stuff in his hotel room before leaving and heading to a bar he’d seen down the street.

 

He got fucking _wasted._

 

He cried.

 

He puked in an alleyway.

 

He passed out on the sidewalk.

 

And in the morning, he was going to get back up again, and he was going to continue dimension hopping.

 

Rick didn’t know where he was going.

 

 

He didn’t know what he was doing.

 

He hated his life without Morty.

 

 

 

But he could never go back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. <3 What’d you guys think? Once again, sorry for it being so short.


	7. Perfectly Alternating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick is sad. Morty’s still mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Ready for another chapter? Please enjoy! Hope you guys like it! <3

_**~One week later~** _

__

__

Rick knocked on Squanchy’s door. He ran himself out of money buying alcohol, and he needed a place to stay for the night. This was the only place he could think of.

On planet Squanch, everything was very cat-themed. It was fitting, seeming as all of the inhabitants were cats. Squanchy’s house was a cabin in the woods. The trees were blue, and the grass was softer and a very light shade of green— greener than Earth’s grass. The gravity on the planet was just slightly lighter, making Rick weigh about three pounds less than he actually did.

The feline opened the door, looking up at Rick in surprise. Besides actually seeing him, the first thing he noticed was that Rick’s sent was almost completely covered with the smell of alcohol. It was nearly suffocating to the cat. “Rick Sanchez! Squanchen hell, man, you look bad. What’s happened to you?” He ushered Rick inside, wanting to help. Anything for good ol’ Rick.

The old man was a complete mess. His hair was more askew than usual, and heavy bags were under his eyes. He was littered with bruises from bar fights, and his clothes were in tatters. He hadn’t had much to eat recently, and his already skinny frame was even skinnier. He looked like he was ready to collapse.

“N-nothin’.” Rick shook his head as he stumbled into Squanchy’s house.

“Where the squanch is Morty?” The orange feline asked, peering out the door worriedly when he didn’t see the brunette walk in behind Rick. He closed the door once he realized the kid wasn’t with him.

Rick glared in his direction. “Don’t ask again,” He growled. He collapsed face down into Squanchy’s couch with a groan. “J-just need... o-one n-night and I’ll b-be outta y-your fur...”

Squanchy’s tail twitched behind him and he sighed. He was surprised Rick was even here. They hadn’t talked to each other since BP died... so that meant the old man was definitely in a bind. It was really weird to see him without Morty these days, and he worried that something might’ve happened to the boy.

However, under the strong sent of alcohol and stress-sweat coming off of Rick, he could vaguely smell the teen’s lingering sent. He had definitely been with him about a week ago. It was barely there. But, he couldn’t smell any blood, so at least there was that. That gave him a little hope that nothing _really_ bad had happened to the kid.

The cat approached Rick carefully, placing a paw on his back. The scientist was already halfway asleep, and he grumbled something that Squanchy didn’t quite catch, even with his sensitive hearing.

He wished BP was still alive. Rick had always liked him more, and the bird always knew how to handle him in these situations. BP would’ve known how to get the truth out of Rick— how to help him. Birdperson had always been good at that kind of stuff. 

Squanchy sighed.

He wished he could help his friend, but knew he was no good at it past letting him sleep here.

But, he’d definitely help him in whatever way he could.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Morty stared at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until school was out. His leg was bouncing impatiently under his desk, and he was tapping the eraser of his pencil against its surface.

 

Ten more minutes until the bell.

 

Half the class had already finished their work, and were horsing around in the classroom.

But not Morty.

He just wanted school to be over with. It was so pointless to be here right now when Rick was somewhere out there in space, doing fuck-knows-what, in who-knows-where.

 

Nine more minutes.

 

Morty needed justice— Morty needed revenge— he was gonna freaking _murder_ Rick and then _raise him back from the dead so he could kill him again—_

“Hey, Morty,” A voice called, snapping him out of his thoughts. He tore his eyes away from the clock and glanced in the direction of the voice. It was Jessica. How peculiar. He didn’t know Jessica knew he existed. The red head sat down in the desk next to him. “So, how’s it goin’?”

Morty furrowed is brow in confusion. “Uh, well... I-I’ve been alright.” _Lie._ “Why’re you asking?” He wondered curiously, trying to calm his nerves enough to have a decent conversation. Jessica was a nice girl. He didn’t want to take his anger out on her.

Jessica giggled, giving Morty a warm smile. A year ago, Morty was sure he would’ve fainted at the sight of that smile. “Don’t you hear everyone talking about you?” She leaned closer to him, whispering. “Everyone’s wondering why you’ve been in school so much recently. Your grandpa hasn’t picked you up from school in a whole week. It’s a new record.”

Morty furrowed his brow even more, feeling on edge now. He peered around suspiciously to see if anyone was staring at him. He spotted that several people actually _were,_ and when he’d looked over, they’d looked away, pretending that they hadn’t been staring. _‘Okay, that’s creepy.’_ Morty thought to himself. “E-everyone talks about it?” He asked incredulously.

_They were keeping track? What the fuck??_ Morty was starting to get a little weirded out, because... this was _his_ business, and _his_ business alone, and _why the hell were people keeping track of how many full days of school he attended in a row?_

Jessica nodded, brushing a strand of her red hair behind one of her ears. “Yeah, everyone’s wondering what happened...?”

Morty sighed, not wanting to explain, but also not wanting to be rude. “R-Rick got himself into some trouble. I-It’ll all be fixed soon, though. Nothing to worry about.” He was fucking sure of that. He was gonna _make_ everything fine again. Because, if he tried hard enough, he could actually fucking do that.

“What kind of trouble?” She asked, blinking at him under her fake eyelashes. Morty couldn’t help but be mad that she was flirting with him _after_ he’d already grown out of his crush on her.

If someone had told him a year ago that Jessica would one day flirt with him, he would have came in his pants, as pathetic as that sounds. Right now, though, Morty just wanted this day to be over with. He wanted to go home and wait for B-67’s call. It had been a full week since he’d called him, and he knew he should have his stuff _very_ soon. Any day now.

“I-it’s kinda personal, Jessica.” He frowned at her, looking back up at the clock.

 

Eight more minutes.

 

Jessica giggled again. “You know, Morty, you’re kinda cute.” She said, biting her lip. She looked him up and down, as if studying a piece of art.

Morty blanched, his eye widening in surprise at the change of subject, and he leaned away from her slightly. “W-wait, what?” He let out a nervous chuckled, shocked that this was something that was even happening.

“You heard me,” She said, leaning closer to him to close the gap that Morty had put between them. “Do you wanna try going on a date or something?”

Morty let out a nervous chuckle again. “Um,” He coughed awkwardly into his elbow. “J-Jessica, I-I’m really— I’m sorry, but... I’m gonna have to decline...”

Jessica’s smile fell, and she backed up a little, suddenly looking more uncertain than anything. “B-But... I thought you liked me, Morty?” She tilted her head slightly in confusion.

“I-I did,” Morty scratched at the back of his neck anxiously. “But... things change, y’know?”

Jessica still looked confused. “Oh...” She glanced over her shoulder, looking like she really wanted to leave.

Morty felt like he owed her an explanation of some sort, hating how everything got so awkward so quickly. And before he knew it, his mouth was running, blurting out a stammered excuse. “Y-you were always just... on and off with Brad, and I, uh... I managed to somehow let it go, a-and I moved on... I’m really sorry...”

“No, it’s okay, Morty.” Jessica said, giving him a sad yet warming smile. She placed one of her hands over Morty’s comfortingly. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner.”

With that, the red head left, her hand lingering on his for a moment before the brunette was once again left alone.

Morty knew he wasn’t waiting for Rick to change his mind— that’s not why he declined. He rejected Jessica because he had truly lost interest in her. And he was confident in that fact, at least. 

He knew the odds that he and Rick would actually take their relationship to the next level was really small. He also knew that he wanted Rick to stay in his life either way. He was fine staying they way they had been. He cared about Rick, and loved him, and whether or not he explored those emotions romantically, or not, didn’t matter.

If not his lover, Rick would always be his best friend. No matter what.

He looked at the clock again.

 

Five more minutes.

 

Wow. He couldn’t believe Jessica asked him out.

Too bad someone else swept him off his feet and purged him of his crush on her.

 

_That fucking prick—!_

The wooden pencil in Morty’s hand snapped in half, splintering down both sides, and shallowly cutting into Morty’s palm. “ _Ah,_ shit!” Morty cursed quietly to himself, cradling his injured hand. For such a small cut, it was bleeding pretty heavily, a few drops dripping down onto his desk.

He grabbed his jacket, which had been hanging on the back of his chair along with his back pack, and wrapped it around his hand in order to hide his heavily bleeding hand. _How the fuck did a pencil cut him so badly?_

Four more minutes.

 

Morty sighed, tapping his fingers on his desk along with a beat that was playing in his head.

Sarah, the person sitting in the seat next him, asked him to stop, so he did. Not that he cared what she wanted, but Morty just really didn’t wanna get into a fight at the moment. He was already in a pretty bad mood.

 

Three more minutes.

 

Morty bounced his foot impatiently, and couldn’t help but think that these were the longest ten minutes of his life. Usually he had a lot of patience, but ever since Rick left, the well had dried up.

He was out of patience. Every second was another second wasted that he could’ve spent with Rick, galavanting across the cosmos.

But _noooo_ , instead he was here, stuck on this dirt planet he called home, all because Rick was a _coward_ who always ran from his problems instead of facing them like a man.

 

Two more minutes.

 

Sure, Morty was ashamed and scared of his own feelings, too, but at least he was ready to face them rather than run from them, like what Rick was doing.

And now he was in this fucking mess— now he had to run that extra mile to get Rick back, and fix things. Morty didn’t feel like it was _his_ job to fix things this time— _Rick_ was the one that had apologizing to do, and fuck-ups to fix. But the only way he’d do it is if Morty gave him a big push in the right direction— All because Rick somehow didn’t know _anything_ about how to properly interact with people, and severely lacked social skills.

For a genius, Rick really was emotionally stunted. Maybe that was the price for knowledge— maybe that’s why Morty was good with managing feelings, but not math, and Rick was good at math, but not feelings.

The two of them were polar opposites— where one of them excelled, the other one failed, and vise versa. Maybe that’s why their brainwaves were so perfectly alternating. Maybe that’s why they fit together so perfectly, like puzzle pieces slotted together, or like a pair of entwined hands.

Morty leaned back in his chair. He was gonna find Rick and drag him back here. He wasn’t changing his mind on this, and Rick didn’t get a say in this. He didn’t care what the old man thought. He didn’t get to just run away like that, especially when Morty hadn’t even been done telling him why he should stay.

In the past week, he’d had plenty of time to think. And he knew what he had to tell him now. He just had to find that old piece of shit first.

 

One more minute.

 

Thirty seconds...

 

Ten seconds...

 

One second—

 

**_RIIIIINNNGGG!!_ **

****

Finally, the bell. Morty slung his backpack over his shoulder and was the first one out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The teen hissed through his teeth as he poured the disinfectant liquid on his hand over the sink. _How the fuck was it still bleeding?_ The cut wasn’t all that deep, and he’d been putting pressure on it consistently. It just didn’t make any sense.

Maybe it was just because it was on his palm? He must’ve really been holding that pencil hard for it to cut him so badly. He’d even had to pick a few splinters out.

Morty was pulled from his thoughts when he felt his phone start to vibrate in his back pocket, and with his free hand, he reached to grab it. He swiped for it to answer, and put his phone between his shoulder and his cheek so he could continue tending to his hand. “H-Hello?”

_“Heyyy, It’s me, Rick B-67. This is Morty C-162, right?”_ B-67’s voice filtered through the phone.

“Y-yeah, that’s me.” Morty felt his heart start to speed up, relief and anxiety simultaneously pumping through his veins now. It was finally time. He pulled some gauze and medical tape out from under the sink.

_“Great! I got t-the shit you needed.”_ B-67 said. _“I n-need you to come down to your dimension’s garage so you can pick it up.”_

“A-alright, just give me one second,” Morty sighed, carefully wrapping his hand. “I j-just need to finish something. D-don’t hang up, I have to put the phone down for a sec so I can finish.” He put the phone down on the sink counter, and finished wrapping his hand. It had luckily been the exact right amount he needed.

He unrolled some medical tape and ripped off the end with his teeth. He put it on the end of the gauze and then picked the phone back up. “Okay, him heading to the garage.”

_“Great, meet ya there.”_ B-67 said and hung up the phone.

Morty put his phone back in his pocket and headed down the stairs two at a time.

As he entered the garage, he couldn’t help but feel a flush of emotions come over him at the sight of how empty it was. No inventions, no crazy-looking alien items, no underground lab, no random alcohol bottles lying around. _No crazy, blue haired, alcoholic scientist lounging around._  

The teen almost didn’t recognize the place. He ran his uninjured hand along one of the empty shelves longingly, wiping up the very thin layer of dust that had coated it.

Through all of the anger and resentment he currently felt towards Rick, he really _really_ missed him. Life just wasn’t the same without Rick. He felt lonely without him.

In those two agonizing weeks that Morty’d thought Rick didn’t care about him, he _at least_ knew that Rick was okay. He’d see him everyday at the dinner table. So at least he knew he was _there._ But now he wasn’t here at all, and that’s what hurt the most.

His Mother had asked him a few times over the past week about what had happened to Rick, and where all his stuff had gone, and each time Morty just told her that he’d get him back and that she shouldn’t worry.

Morty was gonna get him back, and it wasn’t up for debate. Rick was gonna come home whether he liked it or not.

Morty actually flinched when a zapping sound echoed through the garage, green light appearing in the middle of the room from thin air and swirling around into an oval portal.

A Rick stepped through. He had a goatee, and a baseball cap on his head. He was wearing a wrinkly white button down shirt, and a pair of black slacks— his outfit kinda looked lazily put together, like he hadn’t cared at all what he looked like. One of his arms were replaced by a robotic prosthetic, and when he saw Morty, he gave him a friendly smile.

“Wow,” B-67 said as the portal closed behind him. “W-with all that attitude, I-I’d t-bbBBBUURrrp-thought you’d look like one of those punk Morty’s. But, nope! Y-you look like a classic, default Morty.”

Morty gave a little chuckle. He had to admit that even though this wasn’t _his_ Rick, it was still nice to see another version of him. “I c-can’t tell if that’s a complement or an insult.”

B-67 shrugged. “I-It was an observation, so neither.” He looked around the garage, noticing how empty it was. “So, w-what’s the deal in this dimension, eh?” He asked. He had a box tucked under his arm, Morty noticed. “Y-your Rick pack up and leave or somethin’?”

Morty scoffed, crossing his arms. That same anger from the very first day Rick had left came bubbling back to the surface. “Yep, b-but I’m gonna make him come back.”

B-67 hummed. “Y-yeah, good luck with that, k-kid. Rick’s can be pretty damn stubborn.”

Morty’s fist’s clenched but he had to stop when pain radiated from his injured hand. “W-well, too damn bad for _him,_ because I’m one damn stubborn Morty.” He retorted bitterly.

Rick B-67 snorted, holding out the cardboard box to him. “I-I’ll be rootin’ for ya kid.” He said. “Do you need any instructions on how to operate your Portal Gun?”

Morty stared at the cardboard box for a second before taking it. “Uh, I guess... I mean, it would be nice to h-have a little more knowledge on how to use it.”

B-67 gave him another smile, seeming to brighten up a little. He opened the cardboard box and pulled out the Portal Gun. He started giving him instructions on how to use it, which nobs to turn, and certain dimensions he should avoid, such as the blender dimension, whatever the hell _that_ was.

And then he pulled another item out of the box— the Portal Gun tracker, apparently. It looked kinda like an iphone, except it was heavier and a little thicker. When he turned it on, the first thing he saw was a bunch horizontal columns that had of dimensional coordinates inside them. There was a button on the side that switched it to show different information, like which Portal Gun it was rigged to, and how many times they’d Portal going as far back as a week. 

According to B-67, it was already rigged to C-162’s Portal Gun, and ready to go.

He explained that Rick C-162 would have no way of knowing he was tracking him, and that it would alert him every time C-162 portaled somewhere. 

The only bug with these things, though, was that they took about a day or so to process all of the dimensional numbers for him to put into the Portal Gun, and that sometimes the chronological order of which dimensions he visited would be out of order depending on how many he opened in a day.

By the end of the brief lesson, Morty was confident that he could do this.

“Thank you,” Morty said seriously, holding the two items to his chest. “S-seriously, this is really gonna help me find my Rick.”

“Like I s-said, kid, you get me my money, and it’s all good.” B-67 winked at him. “Call me whenever you’ve g-got my Flurbos.”

As B-67 opened a new Portal and went to leave, Morty called for him to wait a moment. The Rick turned back to look at him with a raised brow.

“D-do me a favor, and never ditch your Morty, alright?” He said, holding his breath as he waited for the older man’s response.

B-67 smirked at him. “W-wouldn’t dream of it, even though my Morty’s a weird-ass punk.” He said, and then slipped through the Portal.

Morty stared at the place of which the Portal had been for a little while, thinking about his next move. If the Portal Gun tracker was a day late when it came giving him information, that meant he had a _lot_ of catching up to do. And according to B-67, it was still a little glitchy, so that would definitely make things _that_ much harder.

He had to leave tonight. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to find him.

He looked down at said tracker, scrolling through all the random dimensions and numbers on it that told him where Rick had gone. He was actually surprised to see that Rick had already used his Portal Gun 357 time in the past week. What the hell was that man doing?

He sighed, tucking the tracker away in his back pocket and holding the Portal Gun in his hand as he left the garage. He went up to his room and grabbed his duffle bag, and sat at his desk.

He found a pen and paper, and began scribbling out a note.

 

_‘Mom, Summer,_

_I left to go find Rick. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I will return._

 

_Morty’_

Carrying the note in one hand, and his duffle bag over his shoulder, he headed back down to the kitchen.

In there, he stuck the note to the refrigerator with a magnet, and then started packing snack foods that wouldn’t go bad super quick into his duffle bag, like pop tarts, goldfish crackers, granola bars, animal crackers, cheese puffs, and a few other things that he came across. It was just what they had at the moment, and he knew it would probably annoy his mother to take all of it, but it would definitely help him manage his money when it came to food. 

He double checked everything in the duffle bag, just to make sure he had all that he’d probably need. 

He wished he could take more, but... Rick took everything else that could’ve been useful for this trip. In a last moment decision, he raced back up stairs for a moment to grab his phone charger.

He entered the garage, and looked down at the Portal Gun with furrowed brows. “I could die on this adventure,” He said to himself grimly, seeing if it was possible for him to talk himself out of it. This whole plan was _insane,_ and he knew it. “Rick is the one that always saves us when things go wrong. I could die trying to find him.”

He frowned. “But I’m s-still gonna try, aren’t I?” He said, even though he already knew the answer. “Because I’d follow Rick to the ends of the universe, and back again. It’s my biggest flaw.” He pulled out the tracker with a heavy sigh. “L-love makes you do crazy things, Rick... you’ll know that when I find you.”

He read the first coordinates he could see and typed them into the Portal Gun. He shot a Portal into the center of the garage.

The brunet clutched the strap of his duffle bag in his hand, running his fingers along the fabric nervously. To say he was scared was an understatement— he was downright _terrified._ He’d never done something like this without Rick, and he had no idea what to expect on the other side. But he had to do this.

Steeling his nerves, he went to step through the Portal.

 

“Morty?”

 

Morty froze, one foot inside the Portal. Slowly, he turned around to face the voice that called his name. Summer was standing in the door to the garage, looking at him worriedly— a look she hadn’t given him in a very long time.

Morty hadn’t known anyone was home. When he got back from school, Beth had called to tell him that she was working late, and Summer was apparently at the mall with her friends. (And his Dad was in his apartment, of course, so he didn’t have to worry about him.)

“What.” He said, looking at her expectantly. He was ready to just go already. He’d made up his mind, and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t have time for Summer to bitch at him over something he didn’t care about.

“You’re going to find Rick, aren’t you?” She asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, I left a note...” He trailed off, pulling himself out of the Portal and back into the garage. It stayed open behind him, a halo of green glowing around him in the dark garage.

Summer stared at him for a moment longer before looking down at the floor, tears pooling in her eyes. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” She asked, wiping at her face.

Morty’s eyes widened. “S-Summer, what’re you talking about?”

“At being a good sister.” She sniffled, pushing off the door frame and walking up to her little brother. “I pushed you away... I fucked up our relationship.” She said, placing her hands on Morty’s shoulders. “I saw you falling apart, and I did nothing... I’m sorry, Morty...”

Morty looked up at her, tears pooling in his own eyes. He didn’t cry, though. He was tired of crying. “Summer—“

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” She said. “You’re _fifteen,_ Morty, and Grandpa Rick, he... I know he’s your best friend, but... it’s not right for you to have to go after him like this. He left for good, didn’t he?”

Morty looked down at the floor, nodding. “Yes, but I’m gonna bring him back, Summer...”

Summer pulled Morty forward into a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I can’t stop you from going, can I?”

Morty hugged her back, sighing sadly at the question. “No...” He whispered.

Summer let out a small, bitter laugh. “Try to stay safe, okay?” She said to him, giving a little squeeze. “I want to be able to make up for... for how I’ve treated you, okay? Promise me you’ll come back?”

Morty was taken back to a week ago, when he’d begged Rick not to leave him. When he’d cried, and begged, and hoped for Rick to promise him. And he didn’t promise. And then he’d left. Morty couldn’t do that to Summer. They may have their issues, and their arguments... and yes, Summer had hurt him really bad by emotionally abandoning him over the years, but... Summer was still his sister, and he loved her unconditionally. He would always love his sister, no matter what.

“I-I promise.” He told her, honestly believing that he’d be able to keep it. Maybe she really would make up for everything when he got back, and he was determined to see it.

Summer let out a shaky breath and pulled him back, her hands still resting on his shoulders. She gave him a weak smile, and for once, it wasn’t forced, like they usually were. “Good,” She said, wiping at her eyes to clear the tears. “I’ll see later, then?” She looked at him hopefully.

Morty smiled back at her. “Of course.”

 

He turned back to walk through the Portal.

 

“And Morty?” The red head called out to him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you, little brother...”

 

“I love you too, Summer...”

 

Morty stepped through the Portal, finally starting his first solo adventure.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... I upload most of my fanfics from my phone. And it’s real freaking glitchy. Sometimes the spacing gets weird between paragraphs, and I literally don’t have any way to fix it, so I apologize if the spacing gets a little wonky sometimes.
> 
> But besides that, thank you so much for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed!


	8. Colors Are Warm and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick is a mess and Squanchy just wants to help.
> 
> Morty is tired but still determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyyy, so I have some bad-ish news for you guys. Before it get into it, though, just know that this fic is definitely not gonna die. I already have an ideal ending planned out in my head and everything, so I’m determined to get this finished one day.
> 
> I have school coming up soon. Not only that, but I’m in band as well, and that LITERALLY takes ALLLLL of my free time, so I might not be able to update for a while.
> 
> I will still try to keep up with it as much as I can, though, but I can’t guarantee that update much for a while.
> 
> But anyway, please enjoy! Thank you to all who read this fic!

Rick grimaced down at his plate. Of course, he should’ve expected this, but it’d been so long since he’d gone to Planet Squanch that he’d forgotten about this little detail.

For breakfast, there was a dead rat, or whatever the equivalent to it was on this planet, on his plate.

“I-I’m not eating this.” Rick pointed down at his plate in disgust. He was super hungover, and he just wanted something decent to eat. Looking down at the dead, week-old rat, was making him want to barf all over again even though he’d already done that twice this morning.

Squanchy looked up from his own plate, not really seeing a problem with his food. “Do you not like rat?” He asked, genuinely confused. He was used to eating meals like this, and, quite frankly, rat was squanching delicious.

Rick scoffed. “H-humans don’t fucking e-eat _rats,_ Squanchy. T-t-they’re filled with diseases, and—and they live in the sewers. It’s disgusting.” Rick vaguely recalled violently murdering a bunch of rats that one time he turned himself into a pickle. The scientist stood from the table and started rummaging around inside Squanchy’s pantry, trying to find something different to eat. “D-d-do you have any fish? Or—or maybe fruit, or something?”

Squanchy was chewing on part of his rat as he answered. “I’m squanchin’ incapable of digesting fruit, Sanchez.” He huffed. The scientist claimed to be the smartest man in the universe, yet sometimes he was so forgetful. Maybe it was because of his hangover. “But if you’d like, we could go fishing. There’s a lake about a mile west of my house.”

Rick closed the pantry after another moment of rummaging through the feline’s food, deciding that nothing in there would be edible for him. “T-Thanks for the offer, b-but I’m not staying much longer...” He trailed off, seeming to become lost in thought for a moment.

Squanchy swallowed nervously, his tail swaying to slightly curve around his body. He really wanted to know why Rick was even here. It had been bugging him since last night. “Rick, what happened to you?” He asked, trying his best to read the human’s body language. “Why are you squanchin’ here?”

Rick stared off into space for a few moments before sighing heavily. He leaned against the doorframe separating the dining room from the kitchen. He showed up to his house unannounced and stayed for a night without being invited or getting comformation that he was even _allowed_ to stay. The least he could do is give the cat some sort of explanation. “I-I left my home, Squanchy.” He explained. “Permanently. I’m not ever going back.” He said it with such finality that it almost left no room for argument. _Almost,_ being the key word here.

Squanchy frowned. “What about Morty—?”

“Don’t.” Rick held up his hand to stop him, his hole body tense. “I-I can’t think about him right now.” _It hurts too much. Please help me. I miss him so much. I need him. I want to hold him so badly._

The look on Squanchy’s face held so much alarm that Rick didn’t know what else to say. “Did he...?” The cat trailed off, not wanting to say it but still wanting an answer from Rick.

Rick’s eyes widened at the implication. “W-what?! No! M-Morty’s fine... definitely not dead, Squanchy, geez!” He shook his head and let out a long, shaking sigh as he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.

Squanchy looked a bit relieved, slumping back in his chair a little. He didn’t know Morty all that well. His first encounter with the boy had been awkward at best, when the kid walked in on him _literally_ masturbating in a closet. But, he’d definitely seen how Rick and Morty’s dynamic worked together. And, even when they were arguing, there was always just something about them that made them the perfect duo. It was kind of breaking his heart that Rick was _apparently_ leaving the kid back on Earth. _Forever._

“Well, I’m glad he’s not squanchin’ dead, Sanchez, but... don’t you think he’ll miss you? Why’d you leave?” The feline pressed. He wanted Rick to go back to his home. There was just something so off about this situation, and he didn’t like it. Even _he_ could tell that Rick wanted to go back, and was for some reason not doing so.

“D-Doesn’t matter if he’ll miss me,” Rick waved him off, rubbing his temples in frustration. His headache was returning— not that it had ever really left, but he’d managed to ignore it for a while. “He’ll get over it one day... he’ll be fine without me...” He said with a detached tone. Rick, himself, was sure he’d never be able to recover from this. But he knew Morty was strong enough to move on without him.

Squanchy didn’t know what to think of all of this. He didn’t know what to say, or how to help. He didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to convince Rick to go back home, to his family, to _Morty._ Whatever happened must’ve been big to make Rick retreat so badly. The last time he’d left Earth ‘permanently,’ it had been because of Diane. “Why’d you leave, Rick?” He asked again. If Rick didn’t answer this time, he’d stop asking. He didn’t want to continue nagging.

Rick suddenly pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes and sunk to the floor with his back against the doorframe. He was far too sober for this. He didn’t want to think about Morty. It hurt too much. It took everything inside of him to stop from crying— he could feel the overwhelming emotions grab hold of his heart, drowning him under a sea of regrets and haunting thoughts. He felt the sting of tears threatening to spill from behind his eyes, but he held them back with all his might.

He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to be alive. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to hurt this badly.

He couldn’t handle the emotions and feelings swelling up inside of him, crushing his soul into dust and tearing him up from the inside out. It’s like there was a wound buried deep inside his mind blossoming to the surface so it could widen and show all of its beauty.

Except it wasn’t beauty. It was pain, and regret, and hurt, and loneliness, and self-loathing, and so many other things that he couldn’t handle all at once. The negative emotions he felt only seemed to feed the wound, like water feeds a flower to help it grow.

It was expanding across every inch of his mind with every day that passed as he further distanced himself from the only person he loved anymore. Morty was what brought yellow into his life— the color of happiness, joy, and warmth— like his own personal sunshine. But now all he could see was blue, and blue was sad, and cold, and lonely.

He could see the swirling green of his portals, which made him feel sick. The white of his lab coat, which was so blank.

He could see a spectrum of colors dance across his vision with each passing universe. His brain could register them, identify what they were in less than a second.

But what even was color, if the sun was gone and could not give it life?

Without the sun, all you can see is darkness.

And Rick was in that darkness.

The scientist could feel the oncoming panic attack, his thoughts running on a rampage, and his throat constricting painfully, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. He could hear his heart beating frantically, so loud in his ears that he had to wonder if Squanchy could hear it, too.

He was never going to see Morty again. He was never going to be able to hear his laugh, or ruffle his curly brown hair. He was never going to be able to watch him grow, and he’d never be able to give him that knowing look whenever an inside joke came along. He’d never feel Morty’s head fall on his shoulder during those times that Morty’d pass out during interdimensional cable. He’d never eat ice cream with him, or beat him at Blits and Chitz games. He’d never hear that weirdly endearing stutter of his, or hear him subtly tip-toe into the garage late at night to he could hang out with Rick.

_All because Rick was a disgusting pervert._

He’d been avoiding these thoughts for so long, and they were finally crashing down on him like a tsunami. Rick couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t see the light. He couldn’t feel the warmth he missed so dearly. Everything was dark all around him, swallowing him whole into a dark, empty abyss of nothingness, where he could rot into a decaying, lifeless corps.

_He just wanted Morty. Oh god, he missed him so much. What had he done? What the fuck had he done?_

At this point, Squanchy was starting to panic. He left his meal abandoned at the table and scrambled to stand in front of Rick. He’d never seen the old man like this before, not even after Diane. This was _bad._

He wanted to do something to help him, but he didn’t know what. Rick probably wouldn’t react well to a hug, and he wouldn’t listen to anything reassuring he had to say. So he just stood there, unsure of what to do or how to act.

Rick wasn’t crying, he could tell that much. But he was shaking, and he seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilation. Maybe a panic attack? _Could Rick even have panic attacks?_

Anyone could have a panic attack depending on the situation. He knew that, but... Rick was the strongest person he knew. Rick was an asshole, sure, but he was the only person he knew who could handle the most stressful of situations and come out in the end still standing strong for everyone else. Squanchy looked up to him both literally and figuratively for that very reason.

To see him like this was so unnatural and unfitting. And Squnchy was left unable to to do anything but just stand there and watch his friend crumble under the weight of whatever emotional pain was haunting him.

A solid ten minutes went by as Squanchy stood by, not knowing what to do as Rick had a mental break down on the floor. But eventually, the old man finally managed to compose himself. With a blank expression, Rick slowly pushed himself up from the ground. His eyes met Squanchy’s, and the cat had to look away due to the intensity of which they had bored into him. Emotionless, yet plagued by something deep and unreadable.

“Thanks for letting me stay the night,” Rick said in a scratchy, broken voice, reaching inside his lab coat for his Portal Gun. He pointed the device into the kitchen and shot a Portal into the middle of the room. “It was nice seein’ ya again, Squanchy...”

Squanchy didn’t say a word as he watched Rick leave. The Portal vanished the moment the old man stepped through, and the feline’s shoulders slumped.

Squanchy knew that he wasn’t the person Rick needed right now, and so he reluctantly let him go, no matter how badly he wished his friend would’ve stayed.

 

* * *

 

 

Morty hadn’t slept for two Earth days. That’s what his phone told him, at least. He’d been Portal jumping near constantly, trying to find his runaway grandpa.

Usually each Portal jump ended up with Morty finding someone who’d seen Rick, and then said that he’d already long since left. He stopped by a lot of bars, unsurprisingly. 

He discovered that the tracker was completely out of order at this point, and that half the dimensions he’d entered were actually places Rick’d never even really gone.

It was a strategy he’d actually seen Rick use one upon a time in order to not only increase the randomness of where the Portal would spit you out, but also to make tracking them significantly harder. They’d used this trick against other Rick’s before, opening several portals at a time before only using one of them in order to leave the other one guessing which one they’d actually entered.

Although, Morty was pretty damn sure that Rick was using that strategy to further randomize his destination. There’s no way Rick could possibly know he was tracking him down.

At some point, he’d ended up in what he recognized as Birdperson’s nest. It made him pause for a little while, slowly walking around the house. He knew BP had been Rick’s best friend, and to some extent, the Bird man had been _his_ friend as well. It had been traumatizing to see him go at the hands of Tammy, who he now loathed with every fiber of his being. He hoped to a god he didn’t believe in that she’d died in the mini war that broke out during the wedding.

He knew Rick had definitely stopped here at some point when he saw a picture on the wall of himself as a baby in Rick’s arms. It looked as if someone had wiped away some of the dust that coated the picture frame’s glass. No one else could’ve done that except for Rick.

Seeing himself as a baby in Rick’s arms was kind of freaky to see, mostly because of how they both felt about each other in present time. He’d actually asked BP about the pictures at some point, wondering how they even existed since he hadn’t met Rick until he was thirteen (almost fourteen) years old.

He found out that he’d actually met Rick twice when he was an infant. Both times it had been in secret, when no one else knew.

One time Rick had apparently come to see him at night when he was asleep in his crib, and the other time being when he snuck into the house and _‘accidentally’_ knocked the babysitter out, and had basically kidnapped him for the day. BP knew this because the first place Rick took him was to his house to brag excitedly about his grandson’s very existence— hence the picture.

Rick sure was one insane guy, thinking it was alright to literally kidnap a baby for an entire day. Morty shook his head, an amused smile on his lips at the memory of BP telling him this absurd story.

At least seeing the picture meant he was on the right track, even though he was probably days late. He just hoped Rick would stop somewhere soon, and he’d be able to find him.

Rick didn’t know Morty was following him, and that gave the teen all of the playing cards. Rick was probably just trying to find somewhere he could stay, or something, and once he did, Morty’d be able to finally find him easily after catching up. And if he just kept going on forever, Morty was confident that he’d still be able to _eventually_ find him. It was only a matter of time.

He moved on, going through several other dimensions, searching to the point of exhaustion.

After being unsuccessful through the next four Portal jumps, he decided that it was time to relax for a while and get some sleep. He wouldn’t be able to find Rick if he was so tired he couldn’t see straight. He already felt like he was running on pure determination at this point, the rest of his energy zapped away by his search.

Not only that, but his Portal Gun was running pretty low on energy as well. So, even if he did want to power through his exhaustion, his Portal Gun didn’t have much longer before it crapped out on him anyway. Might as well find a place to stay for a little while.

He opened up one last Portal and, very oddly and conveniently, stepped out into a hotel lobby. It was the both the most lucky and coincidental thing to ever happen to him, and Morty would’ve been shocked if not for how tried he was right now. He was getting to that point of tiredness where he not only didn’t care about anything, but was also irritated by everything.

Immediately, his ears were assaulted by a loud screeching sound coming from the left, and he turned to see the supposed receptionist for this hotel pointing and yelling at him in a foreign language. Morty held his hands up defense, his eyes widening in alarm. “H-Hey, chill out, man! _Chill out!”_ He said loud enough to be heard over the loud screeching.

The alien appeared to be female. They had green skin, a double chin, and her two bottom canine teeth were so large that they stuck up out of her mouth and made it appear as if she had a constant frown on her face. She calmed down a bit at Morty’s words, but continued to talk to him in that screechy voice, obviously complaining and reprimanding him about something.

Morty placed his hands over his ears, wanting so badly to _not_ have to deal with this right now. “Jesus Christ, lady! C-can you stop talking for a moment?! I can’t understand what you’re saying! At least let me get my translator b-before you continue to go bat-shit crazy o-on me!”

The lady seemed to huff, and she crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. Looks like she could understand Morty, thank _god._ Morty unzipped his duffle bag and grabbed his translator, putting the device in his ear. “Alright, ma’am, can you please repeat what you said?” He asked.

“I asked if you were here to pay off your debt, filthy human,” The translator did wonders to block out the screechiness and translate her voice so that all Morty heard was English. Rick had given it to him a few months back for an adventure, and since the old man had never asked for it back, Morty’d just kept it in his room and used it to watch anime that didn’t have the dubbed version out yet. He had a hard time keeping up with the subtitles due to his slight dyslexia.

Morty frowned at the insult, and sighed heavily. He was too tired for this shit. “I-I’ve... never been here before. What are you talking about?”

“Your friend came by here over a week ago!” She yelled at Morty, pointing at him in an accusing manner once again. “He came here through one of those green things, too! And then he spent the night without paying me!”

Morty’s eyes widened. “H-He was here? What room did he stay in?” He asked, walking up to the desk. He left a little more awake at the mention of Rick having been here. He didn’t even mind the fact that he was probably going to have to pay for the old man simply because this damn receptionist for some reason thought that it was _his_ job to do so.

The receptionist glared at him. “So you _do_ know him, then?” The tone of voice she was using him reminded Morty of a principal reprimanding a student.

Morty sighed again, exhaustion one again creeping up on him. This lady was further ruining his already sour mood, and he just wanted to sleep right now. “Did he have blue hair? A-and a lab coat?” He asked in a bored tone. “Was he kind of drunk?”

The receptionist frowned at him, looking completely unamused. “Yes.”

“Then y-yes, I know him.” He said exasperatedly, feeling irritation crawl up his spine as he gritted his teeth. “If you let me stay in the same room that he had when he stayed here, I’ll pay you double.” He offered. He seemed to be offering up money a lot recently— it was the best solution he could find for a lot of his obstacles. Maybe he’d make Rick play for it once he found him. After all, this was all Rick’s fault to begin with. Morty wouldn’t even be in debt at all right now if the old man had never left.

The receptionist tapped one of her long nails against her desk for a moment as she thought about his offer. “How do I know you’re not just going to do the same thing that your friend did?”

Morty sighed, reaching back down into his duffle bag and pulling out his box of alien money. “I-I’ll pay upfront.” He said. “What currency do you have here, and how much?” He asked.

“Shmeckles,” She said simply, smiling greedily down at him now that money was being discussed. “Forty Shmeckles.”

Morty counted out that many Shmeckles before pulling it all out of the box and putting the rest away. He placed all the Shmeckles on the desk. “Alright, now what room did he stay in?”

The receptionist smiled, and slid all the Shmeckles into the cash register before pulling a key out from under the table and handing it over to the kid. “Floor six, room eighteen. That’s the room he stayed in. Have a nice night, sir.”

Morty ignored how drastically her attitude changed towards him once money became involved. “Thanks.” He muttered, and then headed towards the stairs once he realized this place didn’t have a fucking elevator.

He, very reluctantly, climbed the six flights of stairs, feeling like each step was one year off of his life. He found room eighteen, and once inside, he locked the door and collapsed down onto the bed.

He didn’t even have time to get all sentimental over the fact that Rick had been in this exact room about a week ago before he passed out, having worn himself out completely.

 

* * *

 

 

Morty came awake slowly, fading in an out of a light sleep for a few hours. Last night, he’d had a dream about Rick. He couldn’t remember what it was about, now that he was mostly awake. But he did remember seeing the old man’s warm smile.

The teen had only seen Rick’s genuine smile a few times before in his life, in moments of intimacy and closeness. Those moments never really happened all that often, but they sure were special when they did.

He remembered Rick smiling at him like that when he was proud of Morty, or whenever the two of them were having fun, content to just have each other’s company. And Morty would always smile back just as happily, because he loved Rick and was happy just to see him happy.

He really missed Rick.

With that thought in mind, the teen drifted back into sleep again, another dream quickly dancing around inside his unconscious mind.

He saw Rick’s smile fade away, and his face contorted into one of broken dispare. He saw Rick crying, but he couldn’t call out to him. He could reach him.

Rick started walking away, saying something about never coming back, and Morty couldn’t grab his arm. He couldn’t stop him. He kept crying out for Rick to wait for him, that he needed him to come back. He needed Rick to come back. _Please come back, I need you, I need you so much, please don’t leave me, please—_

Morty jolted awake, gasping quietly to himself as he sat up on his elbows. His eyes quickly darted around the room, searching for Rick’s retreating form, which wasn’t there. His memories came barreling back, reminding him of where he was and what he was doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and hastily started wiping away the tears that had streamed down his cheeks during his sleep. “Fuck...” He whispered to himself.

Dreams like that always did that to him. They always made him wake up crying, and for the first few moments of wakefulness, his perception of reality was distorted, and he could never distinguish what was real and what was fake. Of course, the dream had technically happened, except in a more realistic way, but in those few moments, he couldn’t tell if Rick was currently in the process of leaving, or if the whole thing had actually happened a week ago.

He was just glad the dream was over, and he could focus on _reality_. He could focus on finding Rick.

He leaned back against the headboard of the hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling in mild disgust at the mold. He wondered if Rick had looked up and saw it, too, or if he’d been too drunk to really notice.

He felt like he was almost here, on the very tail of Rick’s fucking lab coat, so close yet so far from reaching him.

Morty rose his gauzed-up hand above his head, staring at the faint, sloppy line of read that stood out among the white color of the bandages where the cut lays underneath.

It had probably stopped bleeding by now, but he decided to keep the bandage on, just in case. Maybe for just a couple more days.

The teen sighed, letting his hand fall back down to his side before pushing himself out of the bed. He took a quick shower in the bathroom, being careful not to get his bandages wet, used the toilet, and then hastily ate a pop tart.

He did a quick sweep of the room, trying to see if Rick had left anything behind. He was disappointed to find nothing.

Morty then unlocked the door and placed the key on the bedside table for one of the staff to find later.

With one last look around the hotel room, Morty slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and pulled out his Portal Gun, typing in the coordinates of the next place the Tracker showed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed!


	9. Over My Dead Fucking Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone tries to steal Morty's stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK YES! I'm so proud of myself for getting this chapter out so quickly. The day after tomorrow, all of my free time is gonna go down the drain, and I really just wanted to get this out before it was too late, and then you guys would've had to wait for like a month before I got this out. Unfortunately, this is the last chapter I'll be able to put out for a while, so I really hope you guys enjoy this one.

_**~Two days later~**_  
  
Morty tugged hard on the strap of his duffle bag, screaming obscenities at the alien that was trying to steal it from him. “L-LET GO OF MY BAG!” He yelled, but of course, they didn’t listen.  
  
He was on a weird planet called Nif’folk. The people here looked like giant red humanoid lizards, with scales for skin and wide, green eyes that sometimes blinked with an extra eyelid that was translucent.  
  
He’d simply been walking around one of their cities, asking around to see if anyone had seen his grandfather here. The portals he went through opened in the exact same places that his grandfather’s had whenever he’d visited that place, according to his tracker. So, that usually meant that the people who came to that specific spot a lot had most likely seen him.  
  
For this planet, Rick had apparently opened up right in the middle of a marketplace, and now Morty was here. But no matter who he asked, no one had apparently seen him. It was weird, because usually if someone saw a glowing green Portal pop up out of nowhere, they’d remember it. Or maybe Rick hadn’t really even come here and had just opened a Portal. But still, he looked around just to be sure.  
  
In his search, he’d eventually ended up exiting the market and accidentally found himself in an alleyway. Before he could leave, though, he’d been jumped, and now this lizard dude was trying to steal his shit.  
  
The alien yanked the duffle particularly hard, and Morty’s grip on it slipped. His eyes widened as the alien bolted down the alleyway, and he was only stunned for a spare moment before he started running after them. Everything he owned was in that duffle bag, _including_ the fucking Portal Gun. He needed to get it back, or else he’d be stranded on this planet forever.  
  
He continued shouting at him, running after the lizard like his life depended on it. _Which it did._ He was sure to quickly die in this place if he didn’t get his Portal Gun back. He _needed_ that damn thing back or else everything he’d worked for would be gone.  
  
All of this effort to find Rick— this _entire_ adventure would’ve been for _nothing_ if doesn’t _get his fucking bag back._  
  
As soon as he was close enough, Morty managed to propel himself forward, grabbing the alien from behind and tackling him to the ground. They struggled against each other, twisting around with their limbs flailing as they fought over the duffle bag.  
  
Morty managed to land a solid punch to the reptile’s face, and they cried out in pain before raising both of their legs to kick Morty off of him. The brunette was thrown about five feet away, skidding across the concrete ground painfully and hitting his head against the wall with a loud _‘crack.’ Jesus Christ, these aliens were fucking strong._  
  
The world blurred around him for a moment, and he blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He forced himself to stand, ignoring the throbbing in his head and ribs. He could feel something warm and wet trailing down the side of his face. _Probably blood. He’d deal with it later._  
  
His eyes caught sight of the lizard alien scaling up a latter on the side of the building, and he quickly scrambled to follow, forcing himself to fight through the dizziness. It probably wasn’t the best idea to climb such a tall later while everything was spinning around you, but what other choice did he have?  
  
He managed to catch up, and he reached up to yank his ankle, trying to throw the lizard off the later so that he would fall to the ground. It slipped a little at Morty’s tug, but quickly righted itself, and then kicked Morty in the face _hard._  
  
The brunette saw stars. His grip slipped, and for a spare second, he was falling down the later. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins, and in his panic, he managed to get his fingers to latched onto one of the bars before it was too late. He gasped, eyes widening as he glanced back down at the ground, which was far, _far_ away. _He’d almost fucking died. That fall would’ve killed him._  
  
Existential crisis aside, he had other things to worry about. With a new-found sense of urgency, he continued to climb the later after the reptile that was about to screw his whole life over. This was not some simple chase— it was life and death. Without his Portal Gun, not only would be stranded, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to last long here all by himself.  
  
He pulled himself onto the flat roof of the building, panting heavily as his eyes darted around in search of the thief. He was on the next roof over, apparently having jumped from one roof to the other, and Morty felt his blood run cold.  
  
The teen did _not_ wanna fucking jump from roof to roof, but it’s not like he had any choice. He was not confident in this plan in the slightest as he forced himself to start running, going as fast as his legs could carry him towards the edge of the roof.  
  
As he neared the edge, he nearly hesitated. But, as he thought about Rick, and how if he _didn’t_ take this jump he’d never see him again, he pushed himself forward. He could only hope that he’d make this jump, and the odds weren’t looking in his favor.  
  
Steeling his nerves, he took his last, running step before leaping off the edge with as much force as he could. And then he was in the air, and everything felt like it was in slow motion— like his thoughts were so fast that the world was too slow to keep up with him. He caught a glimpse of the ground below him— it was dark, and far away. There was a chance he’d die right now. This moment could be the very last moment of his life.  
  
He watched, in a mixture of hysteria, fear, and fascination, as his feet landed perfectly on the other side, and muscle memory pushed his body into a barrel roll.  
  
He was back on his feet in an instant, once again running. He would’ve started hysterically laughing from the near-death experience if he wasn’t still pursuing someone.  
  
Morty got into a rhythm as he continued to chase the lizard, measuring each jump precisely, rolling once he landed to ensure he wouldn’t break or sprain anything, and then fluidly jumping up into another sprint. Turns out all those adventures with Rick really did pay off.  
  
He jumped about three more times before he managed to catch up, and they were just barely getting to another ledge when Morty reached out and snatched the strap of the duffle back, holding on to it with all his might, and digging the heels of his shoes into the concert to try to stop.  
  
And that’s when Morty realized he’d majorly fucked this part up, because the thief was also still holding onto the duffle bag, and he still fucking _jumped_ off the fucking _ledge._  
  
Morty’s hold on the duffle bag caused the lizard’s jump to fail, and Morty to be pulled forward.  
  
“Oh, FUCK!” Morty yelled, grip still tightly held around the strap of the duffle bag as he was dragged halfway off the edge of the roof. He managed to hook not only his free arm over the edge, but also his leg, struggling immensely to pull himself back onto the roof.  
  
The lizard was still holding on to the other end of the bag, screaming as he dangled in the air. It was the only thing keeping him from falling to his death. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” He shouted, and it was the first thing Morty’d heard him say this entire time. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!”  
  
“OH MY _GOD,_ SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Morty screamed back at him in frustration. “YOU’RE A R-R-REAL PIECE OF WORK, YOU KNOW THAT?! WE WOULDN’T BE IN THIS MESS IF YOU HADN’T ATTEMPTED TO STEAL M-M-MY SHIT!”  
  
_“YOU’RE_ ONE TO FUCKING TALK!” The reptile tried to pull himself up slightly, his arms straining. “YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S _WAY_ TOO FUCKING EAGER TO GET THIS DAMN THING BACK! YOU’RE ACTING LIKE ME STEALING THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD!”  
  
“YEAH, W-WELL HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT MABEY IT _IS_ FOR ME?!”  
  
Both of them froze as a loud _riiiiiiiiippp_ sound echoed between them. Morty’s head snapped back down to look as his duffle bag, which was tearing in half from the middle. A few items fell out of it, but Morty couldn’t see exactly what. All he could tell was that it wasn’t the Portal Gun, thank _God._  
  
The reptile shrieked, horror and panic written all over his face at the sight of the tare. “PULL ME UP! PULL ME UP, MOTHERFUCKER!”  
  
“I CAN’T F-FUCKING PULL YOU UP!” Morty yelled down at him, still struggling to keep them both from falling to their dooms. They were both fucking screwed at this point, that’s for sure. “WHO THE HELL DO YOU T-THINK I AM, _THE INCREDIBLE H-HULK?!”_  
  
“WHO THE FUCK IS _THE INCREDIBLE HULK?!”_  
  
Sometimes he forgets that people from other planets have no idea what he’s talking about when he makes references like that.  
  
Morty let out a frustrated scream, his fingers trying to claw their way into the concert roof of the building. This position, along with the hard concrete, and the weight of the reptile dude pulling down, was extremely painful. The teen had no idea how much longer he’d be able to fucking last. If only he wasn’t so damn _merciful._  
  
If Rick were in this situation, he would have found a way to kill this guy already, therefore enabling him to safely pull himself and the duffle bag back up onto the roof.  
  
But Morty wasn’t like that. While he hated this guy’s guts, he wasn’t sick enough to kill him. If he could, he’d save them both.  
  
The duffle bag started to rip more, and the alien started to shriek at the top of his lungs, begging Morty to pull him up. What he didn’t seem to understand, though, was that Morty was physically incapable of doing that. The reptile was _far_ too heavy.  
  
Morty started screaming, too. But it was more from anger and frustration than it was from fear. As the reptile continued to screech, he started to move around, causing the tear to become even worse. _How fucking stupid was this guy?!_  
  
“STOP FUCKING _STRUGGLING,_ YOU DAMN _IDIOT!_ YOU’RE GONNA GET US KILLED!”  
  
“YOU TRY HANGING FROM A BACKPACK A BAJILLION FEET IN THE AIR!”  
  
Morty growled in frustration, wracking his brain for a way out of this situation. He looked back down at his near completely torn-in-half duffle bag, many of his contents spilling out of it. He could see the soft green glow of the Portal Gun through the tare.  
  
  
  
And then it struck him. This was gonna be the riskiest move he’d ever tried. _God fucking damn it, why did he have to think of this? Fuck! Fuuuuccck!_  
  
“Okay!” Morty shouted down at him, staring at the reptile’s panicked face. “I have a plan! I’m gonna let go!”  
  
“ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS?!” The duffle bag ripped some more, and the reptile screeched once again.  
  
“At this f-f-f-fucking point in my life, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was!” Morty said, slowly removing his leg from the ledge so that he was only hanging by his arm.  
  
“OH FUCK, DON’T YOU FUCKING _DARE_ LET GO, YOU— YOU— YOU— YOU DUMBASS! _DON’T YOU DARE!”_  
  
Morty smirked down at him, a crazy thought entering his mind. “You really want those to be your last words before I drop us to our death?” He asked calmly, knowing that he’d have no way of knowing Morty had a way out of this.  
  
The absolute fear on his face as he said it was worth it. He let go of the ledge before the lizard had a chance to say anything, and he started screaming so loud Morty was sure his eardrums with break.  
  
Morty maneuvered in the air as quick as possible, yanking the duffle bag up towards himself and grabbing hold of the Portal Gun, which he remembered was still set to the market place, and he shot a Portal right below them, long before they even came close to hitting the ground.  
  
They both fell through the green rip in space-time, gravity shifting weirdly as they came out through the older side and landed safely on the streets in the market. The reptile was looking around frantically, eyes wide and jaw dropped, trying to comprehend what the hell just happened.  
  
Morty took a few seconds to gather himself, breathing heavily as he laid back against the ground. _‘I can’t believe I just survived that!’_ He thought to himself, holding his Portal Gun up in front of him so he could look at. _‘I wonder what Rick’ll think when I tell him I have my own Portal Gun.’_  
  
Forcing himself to sit up, he started looking at his surroundings, gathering as much stuff from his duffle bag as he could find. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. He found a bag of goldfish crackers, his laser gun, his money box, his pocket knife, and a few pairs of his fucking _underwear._ He still had his phone in his pocket, but it was useless now because he’d lost the charger in the fight, and it was almost dead. His tracker was his in his pocket, too, so that was safe. Everything else was gone. “ _Motherfucker_...” He grumbled.  
  
“Holy fuck,” The reptile next to him said breathlessly. Morty’d almost forgot about that shit-head. “What is that thing?” He pointed to the Portal Gun in Morty’s hand.  
  
“None of y-y-your fucking business, that’s what! Now g-get the fuck away from me!” Morty yelled, glaring at the damn lizard that nearly ruined his life. He gathered all of his remaining stuff into his duffle bag. He’d have to hold it at an angle until he found something else suitable enough to carry all his stuff.  
  
“I want it,” The reptile blinked with his second eyelid as he stared at the Portal Gun. “I could do _so much_ with that thing.”  
  
Morty’s grip on the Portal Gun tightened. Through grit teeth, he spoke in a low tone. _“Over my dead fucking body.”_ He was so sick of this guy already. He’d already fucked everything up enough for him. Like hell he was gonna let this guy come anywhere _near_ his Portal Gun.  
  
Everything was still for a solid thirty seconds, the two of them tense and staring at the other. The rest of the world seemed to move around them, either not caring or completely unaware of what was happening as they continued on their day, shopping like everything was fine.  
  
And then, in the blink of an eye, the lizard lunged forward at Morty, tackling him to the ground. A before unseen pocket knife was held to his neck. But Morty’d been prepared for this.  
  
Just like what this guy had done to him earlier in the alleyway, he lifted his feet and kicked him in the chest with all his strength. The lizard was thrown off of him, stunned for a moment by the action, and Morty used that to his advantage as he spun one of the dials on his Portal Gun and then shot a Portal beneath the lizard’s form.  
  
As he fell through, his blood shot back out of the Portal, splattering all over Morty and the ground around him. The reptile’s screams reached Morty’d ears, and he had to cover them with his hands, horrified by his own actions and what they had caused.  
  
He remembered Rick B-67 telling him to never go into the dimension he just opened, because it was dubbed _‘The Blender Dimension,’_ and you’d die instantly if you entered. That’s why he opened it.  
  
Morty kept his eyes closed and his ears covered long after the Portal had closed again. He couldn’t _breathe._ He’d just killed that guy without even _thinking_ about it. He murdered him in cold blood.  
  
He ignored the screams around him from the running civilians for as long as he could, tears streaming down his face and his chest heaving and spamming as he struggled to suck in just _one_ good breath of air.  
  
It wasn’t until he heard someone scream at him to, _“PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”_ That he managed to snap out of it. Twisting the dial to a new dimension he quickly opened yet another Portal underneath him and fell through. He’d already set the dimension coordinates in earlier as his next destination, not wanting to have to type it all in later.  
  
He landed softly on some grass in the middle of a forest, and he scrambled to gather all of his stuff as he pushed himself up against a tree, struggling to calm his shaking body. He hadn’t wanted to kill him. He didn’t want to kill _anyone._  
  
He held on to his torn-up duffle bag like it was a lifeline, wishing that Rick was here to hold him. Wishing that Rick was here to tell him that everything was alright, even though it clearly wasn’t. He felt so much guilt for what he’d done. That lizard dude must’ve been about the same age as him. He still had a life to live, and Morty’d _killed_ him.  
  
He ran his hands through his hair, yanking on the strands harshly. He pulled so hard that he actually pulled a chunk of his hair out, and that’s when he realized he needed to _chill the fuck out._  
  
As a distraction, he forced himself to take in his surroundings. Blue. The trees here were blue. The time was day, and the sky was blue as well. There were no clouds. The grass was... very green. Kinda like Earth’s, but lighter. He reached out to touch it. The grass here was very soft.  
  
Morty didn’t recognize this place, but that was nothing unexpected. He sighed heavily, focusing on his breathing, trying to calm himself down. He focused on his heart beat— on the gravity of this planet, which actually seemed to be a little lighter than he was used to.  
  
He’d killed people before. This was no big deal. It was self-defense. It was one or the other, and Morty needed to be the one to come out alive. For his sake, and Rick’s.  
  
That bastard was gonna have to owe him a shit-ton once he got his hands on him, that’s for sure.  
  
Morty looked down at himself. He was covered in blood, and he didn’t have any spare clothes, other than a few pairs of underwear. His head and his ribs were throbbing painfully, now more than before.  
  
The gauze on his hand was soaked, and he unraveled it, tossing it to the side. He didn’t need it anymore anyway. He ran a finger over the scab on his palm carefully, still trying to distract himself. He could hear Rick’s voice inside his head, saying, _‘don’t think about it.’_  
  
It was both the best and the worst advice Rick had ever given him.   
  
_‘Don’t think about it.’_  
  
He reached out to his Portal Gun, which was a few feet away from him. He looked it over in his hands, smearing a little blood on the white covering. It was pretty low on charge. It barely had enough for one more Portal jump. Morty didn’t want to risk Portaling somewhere that he couldn’t stay. This forest wasn’t the best place, but it seemed mostly safe.  
  
He noticed that he’d actually opened up on a pathway. Maybe there was a town, or a village or something? Maybe there was somewhere he could sleep and clean himself up?  
  
Morty used the tree he was leaning against to help himself stand, groaning at the pain in his chest. He lifted his shirt up, trying to see how bad it was. He was relieved to see that his ribs weren’t broken, but he couldn’t tell how bad they were bruised through all of the blood. He couldn’t even tell whose blood was whose anymore. He had definitely gotten scraped up and bruised in that fight, but now he was also covered in the other guy’s blood.  
  
He reached down to grab his duffle bag with a painful groan, and started to shakily walk down the pathway in hopes of coming across a town of some sort. He was shaky, injured, and tired. And this place was a little cold, too, so he wanted shelter.  
  
His head throbbed with each step, and he was starting to believe that he might have a concussion. He couldn’t really walk in a straight line, and had to use the trees as support as he kept going. Now that the adrenaline of the fight he’d been in was wearing off, he was becoming hyper-aware of his physical state, and he was _not_ enjoying it at all.  
  
He didn’t have _time_ to let himself heal. He had bigger plans than that, _bigger things to do._  
  
He was becoming aware of a distant ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t tell if he was hearing things, or if it was something to do with this planet. His vision kept occasionally blurring in front of him.  
  
His stomach was churning, and his mouth was watering, like what it does whenever Morty was sick and about to throw up. He didn’t let himself throw up, though, holding it in with a very conscious effort.  
  
The teen kept walking for a long while, determined to find his way to a town. He just needed to rest for a while until he was okay enough to walk without struggling so much, and his Portal Gun was recharged.  
  
This whole thing was Rick’s fault— no, this was _both_ of their faults. It was Rick’s fault for leaving, and Morty’s fault for chasing after him. Rick didn’t have to run away, but he did. Morty didn’t have to chase after him, but he did.  
  
Morty smirked at that thought. Both of them were making stupid decisions these days.  
  
He remembered the day he met Rick. The old man had shown up at their doorstep, reeking of alcohol and slightly sloshed. Morty didn’t know who he was at first, and he’d struggled to wrap his head around why the fuck this weird person showed up at their house smelling like a bar, while also dressed like a doctor, or a scientist, _or something._  
  
He’d almost closed the damn door on him, thinking he was some lunatic or something. But before he could, he heard his Mother drop her wine glass from behind him, and she started sobbing, throwing her arms around the weird man.  
  
Morty had been stunned when he heard Beth yell _“Dad!”_ into his shoulder as she hugged him.  
  
In the time span on only a few days, Rick had managed to claim the garage, much to Jerry’s displeasure, and had set up a whole fucking lab inside of it. His Mother told him that Grandpa Rick was a scientist of some sort, which had fascinated Morty. He’d always loved science, even when he was really young.  
  
In the beginning, he’d mostly stayed distant from Rick, not wanting to get in his way. Because that’s all he did; he got in everyone’s way all the time. But the older man had other plans, apparently, and he kept inviting Morty into the garage to help him with his work.  
  
And then one day, Rick was pulling him through his very first Portal on their very first adventure together, and that’s when Morty’s little crush on the old man had started to form. He hadn’t noticed it at first, only that he loved spending time with his grandpa more than with anyone else.  
  
He loved the adventures, even through the near-death experiences every other time they went out. He loved how passionately and animatedly Rick would explain stuff about the universe to him, and how he was so real compared to everyone else. He was smart and blunt, and he didn’t pussyfoot around things. He was _real._  
  
Usually, people liked to shelter Morty, like he couldn’t handle things. But Rick told him straight what was happing, and treated him like an adult.  
  
Well, most of the time anyway. Every once in a while Rick would be a little condescending towards him, but that’s only when Morty really _was_ acting like an immature child.  
  
Rick had completely changed Morty’s life, and it had definitely been for the better.  
  
The brunette wasn’t giving up on Rick, and he wasn’t giving up on the life that Rick’s presence had given him.  
  
Morty had to have been walking for about an hour when caught sight of a lake in the distance. It wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, but he might be able to clean himself off now.  
  
He walked the rest of the way towards the lake, and sat down at the edge of it, setting his duffle bag to the side.  
  
Slowly, he pulled his yellow shirt over his head, peeling the blood-sticky fabric from his skin. There’s no way he’ll be able to get the stains out, he knows. But he’ll wash it anyway because it’s the only pair of clothes he has left.  
  
Next, he started unbuttoning his jeans and he pulled them off his legs, struggling slightly to do so. They were also covered in blood, and Morty sighed to himself. He decided not to take his underwear off, feeling awkward even though there was no one around to see him.  
  
He gathered his clothes in his arms and slowly started making his way into the lake, thankful to find that the water wasn’t freezing. It was still cold, but not so cold he couldn’t stand it.  
  
He stopped when the water was up to his hips, and he started to dunk his clothes into the water, watching with a blank expression as the water surrounding him turned red. The blood stains wouldn’t go away completely, but he did manage to get most of the blood out.  
  
He wrung his clothes out and then hung them up on a low-hanging tree branch and then returned to the water to clean himself off.  
  
He scrubbed the blood away with his hands under the water, and he washed his hair out. He’d lost all of his soap in the fight, so... he was stuck washing without it. He didn’t care all that much, though. At least he’d gotten out of that situation alive.  
  
_“Morty?!”_  
  
Morty jumped ten feet in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck stood rigidly as he spun around in the direction of the voice. His eyes landed on an orange cat who was standing at the edge of the lake, and his jaw dropped.  
  
_“Squanchy?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you guys think of the picture? I made it myself. Definitely not my best work, but I hope it's alright. 
> 
> I made a speed paint of it if you wanna see that: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8LsKLTXoC4
> 
> Aaaaaannnnd also my DeviantArt if you wanna see more of my art: https://www.deviantart.com/ketommy777
> 
> I go by "KEtommy777" for most of my other stuff, so don't let that confuse you. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so very much for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed! <3

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters will come soon, I promise.


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